


Matched Your Own Beat

by lady_ragnell



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Breaking Up & Making Up, Bullying, Community: daredevilkink, M/M, Speech and Debate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-07
Updated: 2015-10-07
Packaged: 2018-04-25 08:26:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 24,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4953319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lady_ragnell/pseuds/lady_ragnell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Someone gives Foggy Nelson a note pretending to be Matt asking him out, and Matt plays along. It seems like the best option at the time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Matched Your Own Beat

**Author's Note:**

> **Warnings:** bullying that never gets physical but which is a theme throughout, including support of that bullying by an authority figure. Matt's senses leading to overstimulation in the non-sexual sense. On a less serious note, this isn't tagged with "Underage" because things stop short of sex, but there are a few teenage boners in here, fair warning.
> 
> Written for [this prompt](http://daredevilkink.dreamwidth.org/4501.html?thread=8445077#cmt8445077) at daredevilkink.
> 
> Title from Snow Patrol's "If There's a Rocket Tie Me To It."

Someone is hovering just far enough away that Matt can't be certain he's there for Matt but just close enough that he can't be hovering waiting for anyone else, either. It's not Karen, the breathing is wrong and he can't smell her shampoo, and it's not Claire, who should be at the hospital for her volunteer shift already, but Matt can't be certain who it is. Some freshman must have reapplied deodorant at his locker just before Matt got to his, because the whole hallway reeks of Axe.

It's starting to clear out, too, since the final bell rang fifteen minutes ago, but Matt's not-quite-shadow isn't going anywhere. Matt finishes stuffing everything in his bag, sighs, and turns to face him. “Can I help you?”

“Oh, Jesus, sorry.” That's not an auspicious beginning, but Matt can place the voice, anyway: Foggy Nelson. They're on debate together, and they've had a class or two together every year since freshman year, but they haven't talked much, although Foggy generally seems happy to talk to whoever is closest, and he went out with Karen a few times. “I just … I guess awkward hovering probably feels pretty creepy when you can't tell who it is? And it's Foggy.”

“Hi, Foggy.” Foggy doesn't have classes with him today, he can't be asking for a homework assignment, and they don't have practice until Tuesday, so it can't be debate business. “Did you want to talk about something?”

“Yeah, uh.” The crinkle of paper, plain computer paper that's worn out a little, like it's been folded and unfolded a lot, though there's enough crinkle left that it can't have been for long. “I got your note?”

Matt hasn't left Foggy a note—hasn't left anyone a note. He can read text, though usually not printed from a computer, but it's easier to communicate in other ways. “My note,” he says, faltering, and catches the edge of a whisper around the corner (“They're talking, he's going to turn him down in a second,” all air and no tone so Matt can't even tell who it is).

“Yeah, I … I'm kind of surprised? Flattered, obviously. But surprised. But I'm glad you like my debate skills! And, uh. Yes.” Matt tries not to make his confusion too obvious, and he's both relieved and horrified when Foggy clarifies. “To the date.”

Date. Matt _definitely_ hasn't asked Foggy on a date, especially not in a note. He doesn't usually date. He hears too much about the way people whisper about him, pity and fascination and a hundred other things he hates, to want to date anyone he goes to school with. Foggy hasn't joined in on any of those conversations that he's heard, but then again, Matt hasn't really listened to Foggy very much outside of speech and debate. “The date.”

“Honestly I'm pretty shocked! Like, yeah, I've kind of had a major crush, but I didn't really think you noticed?”

Matt tries not to wince, and he's listening around the corner again. Two people whispering, hiding laughs—from the noises behind those, a girl and a boy—and it isn't friendly laughter, matchmaking laughter. They're looking forward to humiliation. To Foggy's humiliation. Matt may not care about Foggy one way or the other, but he doesn't want to be involved in anyone else's cruel prank. He doesn't want to date Foggy Nelson either, but it's slightly better than the alternative. They can go on one date, Matt can lose interest, and Foggy may be disappointed but he won't be humiliated. “I didn't.”

“Major respect for bravery, then, man,” says Foggy, and his laugh is surprisingly warm, even if it's still nervous. “So, are we … doing a date? Or something?”

Matt can't afford much, and he doesn't want to spend money on a date he's going on by accident. They're still whispering around the corner, but they sound surprised now, maybe upset. They weren't expecting a yes, and in case they're watching, Matt makes sure to smile as wide as he can. Foggy won't believe Matt is sincere if Matt won't smile at him. “We could eat lunch together, maybe? See how things go. If you don't mind … Karen and Claire usually sit with me, when we share a lunch period.”

“That's fine. Karen's great, and I'm not going to wax too poetic because it's possibly awkward that I dated your foster sister and now I'm into you, but she's great. And I don't know Claire that well but she seems pretty great too, if kind of scary sometimes. But hey, I know Marci Stahl, scary is good. So. Lunch? We have lunch period together tomorrow.”

It's good Foggy knows that, because Matt doesn't. He keeps to the edge of the cafeteria as much as he can, and mostly it's unbearable with the noise and the smell of everyone's lunch. Unless he's trying, it's nearly impossible to pick any one person out of the mass. “You could meet me after class, maybe? It can be hard to find people in the cafeteria.”

“Of course. Right outside your classroom door. You've got Spanish with Ms. Ramon, right?”

“Right.” He should be disconcerted that Foggy knows his schedule so well, but Matt can't help knowing people's schedules more than he'd like to, even if he doesn't have Foggy's memorized the way he has Claire's and Karen's and those of everyone he wants to avoid. “I'll see you outside the classroom door. For now, I should find Karen, she wanted to talk to a teacher but we walk home together.”

“Of course, yeah. Uh, see you tomorrow, I guess. And thanks. For asking me. I was kind of worried it was a joke, but it's … wow, that was an embarrassing admission. But hey! Glad it's not a joke. I'll see you at lunch. I'll bring cookies.”

“Cookies,” says Matt, and then he's being pulled into an awkward half-hug—nothing too close, but definitely unexpected, and he freezes up even when he tells himself not to, because the whispers are still nagging at him, around the corner. They're watching, and he doesn't want to give it away, to them or to Foggy.

“Sorry!” says Foggy instantly, letting Matt go, because he didn't hug back soon enough. “Sorry, wow, way to go me, assaulting the blind guy. I will warn you before I hug you next time. Or before I do anything else.” Heat from his face, probably a bad blush. “See you tomorrow, Matt. And thanks.”

“You don't need to thank me,” says Matt, since that at least is true, and steps back. “I'm going to find Karen. I'll see you for lunch tomorrow, Foggy.”

He can hear Karen coming around the other corner, so he starts backing off, and pretends not to notice the way Foggy makes some aborted move, maybe to touch his arm or wave or ask for his number.

One lunch. He can find some excuse after that about not being ready to date, and Foggy can go back to being an acquaintance from the debate team, and whoever was whispering around the corner can accept that Matt isn't willing to be used in their pranks.

He can do one lunch.

*

“I invited someone to eat lunch with us tomorrow,” Matt says abruptly over dinner, once Karen is finished telling Doris about her day—Ben is late at the paper tonight, sounded tired when he called to tell them to keep a serving of dinner ready for him. “I hope you don't mind.”

Karen's fork scrapes against her plate and he tries not to wince at the noise. Doris makes a surprised sound too, but Karen is the one to speak. “I don't mind. Who's sitting with us?”

“Foggy Nelson.” Matt coughs, and he wants to tell Karen the truth, but he doesn't want her to have to lie for him either. “It's a date. Though if that makes you uncomfortable, obviously we'll—”

“No!” It's almost a yelp. “No, Matt, really it's fine. I only went out with Foggy a couple of times and I'm still friends with him even if we don't have any classes together this year. It will be nice to have him there.”

“I didn't know you were planning to go on a date with anyone,” Doris says, obviously leading for more information. She won't press if he doesn't want to give it, which he likes about her, but he knows she worries sometimes about how few people he talks about.

“It happened unexpectedly. Foggy is on the debate team with me, and we share a few classes.” Matt shrugs and pushes his food around on his plate a little. “I don't know if it's going to be anything much. But I thought maybe I should try.”

Karen taps her foot gently against his under the table. “Foggy is great. You'll love—you'll like him a lot. I was always surprised you two weren't better friends. You're the best on debate, and did you know he wants to be a lawyer too?”

“I didn't. I guess we'll have something to talk about.”

“You'll find lots to talk about, I'm sure.” Doris sounds happy, and Matt lets some tension go out of his shoulders at that. Even if he's not sure about any of this, at least he knows some good will come out of it. Maybe he and Foggy will even end up as friends. “Karen, you'll have to tell me how it goes.”

Karen laughs. “Don't worry, I will.”

Matt's a little uncomfortable, with both of them so happy, like it's something they've been thinking about and not mentioning, him dating. “Don't get your hopes up too much. I don't know him well. I just thought I should try.”

Karen gives him another companionable nudge. “I know. I won't tease or anything. I'm just happy for you, that's all. And it will be nice to have lunch with Foggy again.”

Doris must realize he's regretting mentioning it at all, because she changes the subject to her day at work, and Matt tries not to show his relief as he asks her about it and then lets Karen talk about her new project for the school paper.

It's only one lunch. He hopes they won't be too disappointed.

*

“Hey, Matt.” Foggy's voice is soft under the noise of everyone trying to get to lunch or class, but Matt is listening for it, so he turns toward the sound and gives Foggy an awkward nod. “Are we meeting Karen and Claire there?”

“Yes. Hello, Foggy.” Matt hitches his backpack up on his shoulders and leaves his free hand on the straps. Sometimes people who don't know him well try to take his elbow and lead him through the crowds in the hallways, but they aren't good at it. Claire and Karen are the only ones at the school that he trusts to do it, and he'd rather keep Foggy from offering. He has his cane and he uses it even if he doesn't need it.

“Well then, let's go see them. Break in the traffic big enough for us to get in coming in three … two …” Foggy starts walking, and Matt goes as well. People get out of his way, but it tends to block up traffic, so he prefers to just join when there's space. It's thoughtful of Foggy. “How was Spanish?”

Matt shrugs and dodges someone's elbow. “Fine. Nothing special. I'm sorry, I don't know what class you just had.”

“Pre-calc, for my sins. Abstract math is not my thing. You can't appeal having the actual wrong answer the way you can an unpopular thesis. At least geometry has proofs. And you really don't care about my math skills or lack thereof.”

“I didn't have an alternate topic of conversation.”

“Man, you are always in debate mode. Huge gym bag coming by.” Matt automatically dodges right, surprised by the easy narration. “Also, I'm great at conversation, so don't feel like you need to come up with anything.”

“You would get bored,” Matt points out, and wants to curse himself. That would be one easy way to convince Foggy he isn't interested after all, and he can let Matt down easy, and no one will be heartbroken or humiliated at all, only a little disappointed.

“Nah, you should just ask Brett Mahoney sometime, he will complain that I can talk with zero outside influence for a really long time.”

Brett. He's taken Spanish with Matt in the past, though he has a scheduling conflict this year, and they've shared a few other classes too. Matt didn't know he knows Foggy, but then again, he doesn't pay much attention to either Brett's social life or Foggy's. “I can't decide if that means he likes you or not.”

“He's obligated to put up with me, we've lived in the same building pretty much my whole life. Liking or not liking really doesn't come into it.” They're almost to the cafeteria, hall traffic hurrying them along, and Foggy makes a little humming noise, thoughtful. “So, how much hostility should I be expecting from Karen and Claire? Like, ballpark. Friendly shovel talk, or actual threats to throw my eyeballs in the Hudson if I'm an asshole?”

Matt frowns, startled, and slows down enough that someone behind him swears quietly. “Neither, I hope. Karen knows you better than I do, I think, and Claire is fine.” Though she doesn't know they're expecting company, unless Karen warned her. He hasn't made the time to call her or have a word in private, and she might be less than pleased. “I'm amazed you agreed to eat lunch with us, if you were expecting that.”

“Yeah, well, you're there,” says Foggy, and he's standing just close enough that Matt can hear the way he mouths something to himself after that, and sense his face heating. Matt doesn't know how to answer that, but it turns out he doesn't have to, because it's only a few seconds before Foggy says, louder and much more sure of himself, “Oh, hey, there's Karen, she's waving and smiling, that's nice of her!”

Things move fast from there—Matt's lunch is packed in a paper bag in his backpack, and since Foggy doesn't make a move to get in the lunch line he must have something of his own too, so they go to Matt's usual table, one of the smaller ones pressed up against the wall, just far enough away from other tables that Matt can concentrate on conversing with Karen and Claire.

“Foggy, hi!” says Karen as soon as they're close, and there's a shuffle that might be something close to a hug, Foggy stepping away just enough that Matt realizes how close they were walking. “It's good to see you. I was happy when Matt said you two are … that you'd be with us for lunch.”

“Uh, thanks.” Matt finds his usual seat, across from Claire, who's silent, probably sizing things up, and Karen and Foggy shuffle around, whispering a little, until Foggy takes Karen's usual seat and she sits down next to Claire. “Hi, I'm Foggy. We had bio together last year, right?”

“Right. I'm Claire.” She sounds thoughtful more than unhappy, so Karen has probably been talking to her, but he'll have to explain everything to her later. Karen might be upset on Matt's behalf or on Foggy's, if he explains, but Claire will understand. The truth is always best with her. “Welcome to the table.”

Matt takes his bag out of his backpack and starts unpacking his lunch. He isn't very hungry, but it's something to do. “How was the hospital yesterday, Claire?”

“Nothing special.” She presses something into his hand—a pretzel, feels like, probably one of the last few in her bag. He eats it with a smile. “I volunteer,” she says, probably to Foggy. “Delivering meals, talking to patients sometimes, that kind of thing.”

“That's great,” he says, warm and sincere. “Are you planning on being a doctor? Or do you just like it?”

“Nurse. I don't want to do all the school. You want to be a lawyer, right? Karen was saying.”

Matt can hear Foggy nod—he wears his hair long, Matt can hear it move and he thinks he's heard people mention it too, not in a kind way, though from what Matt can tell he takes care of it. “If I can manage it. Everyone in the family's got some idea about whose business I should take over, but I don't know. I think I'd like getting up there in a courtroom. Oh! I brought cookies for everyone.” His bag rustles, and then there's a tap on Matt's wrist. When he puts his hand out automatically, Foggy presses a cookie into it, and then moves on to distributing them to the other two even though none of them has finished eating the main part of their lunch yet.

“This is delicious, thank you,” Karen says around a mouthful, and Claire makes an agreeable noise.

Matt takes a bite. It's good, better than he was expecting—a little undercooked, maybe, like Foggy was impatient to get them out of the oven, a little too much vanilla in the batter, but he smiles anyway, and turns in Foggy's direction since people like that even when they know Matt can't see them so it doesn't matter. “Karen is right. Thank you very much. I feel like I should bring you something next time.”

“Next time?” Foggy asks, a little strangled, and Matt wants to shove the words back in his mouth. This is one lunch, and he can tell Foggy he's not interested after all and they'll forget about all of it.

“Don't take him up on it,” Claire says, saving him. “Matt's taste in sweets sucks.”

It's easier after that. Matt lets Claire and Karen talk to Foggy, mostly, and only speaks up when Foggy asks him a question, but that's more often than he expects, and he has more fun than he expects, too. Foggy is clearly nervous, his heartbeat and hesitance giving that away, but he's funny, and he uses big gestures and apologizes and explains them to Matt without being asked, and he even makes Claire laugh.

Matt thinks he hears someone whispering, a familiar cadence to the words even if he can't quite place the voice when there's no sound behind it, but it's hard to concentrate on the words even if the thought that he's being observed makes his skin prickle.

“I've got math next,” Matt says when lunch is nearly over, drawing Foggy out of an argument with Karen over the best place in school to hide when avoiding teachers.

“Damn, I'm across the school for English, otherwise I'd walk you. But, um. Are we doing this again? You mentioned a next time but I don't want to assume.”

Across the table, Karen actually starts humming. Claire doesn't, but Matt trusts her to be pretending disinterest.

Matt should say no. He's done what he needs to do, but there's still the whispering too close for his comfort, and Foggy wasn't a bad lunch companion. He hasn't tried forcing anything else, either. Maybe he'll be willing to be friends. Karen will be happy about it, anyway. “I've got a meeting about college tours in guidance during lunch tomorrow, but maybe later this week,” he says, and he regrets it a little, but not as much as he was expecting.

*

“Want to walk me home?”

Matt has been expecting Claire to take him aside ever since lunch, so he relaxes even though he doesn't expect the conversation to be easy or pleasant. “Sure. Karen is at the school paper meeting until five, so I don't have to wait for her.”

“You can text her you'll be at mine till dinner, then,” says Claire, and takes his arm. She does it sometimes, not to lead so much as to make sure he's not a flight risk—Ben and Doris and Karen know he's more sensitive than most people, but Claire knows more than anybody, after catching him climbing through his window when he'd snuck out to Fogwell's.

She talks about class and the hospital intermittently while they walk at least a block from the school, and then she sighs, like they're past an invisible barrier, or maybe just past all the loitering students.

“I'm sorry I didn't warn you,” Matt says. He's not going to pretend he doesn't know what she wants to talk to him about.

“Karen warned me. She texted me last night to ask if I knew you're dating Foggy Nelson. Which I thought was weird, because I don't think I've heard you talk about Foggy except that time you two were doing the death penalty debate and he beat you.”

“He won on a technicality,” says Matt automatically. He hadn't even remembered that. Claire makes an impatient noise. “I'll explain, but you have to promise not to tell Karen, or especially Foggy. She doesn't need to be keeping secrets when she likes him, and he can't know.”

“Do I usually tell your secrets, Murdock?” Matt shakes his head. “So tell me.”

Matt takes a moment to think, but Claire doesn't prod him more. She knows he's going to answer now. “I'm not completely sure of what happened. But someone printed a note supposedly from me for Foggy, saying I have a crush on him and want to date him. And he was happy about it.”

“So you didn't want to explain someone was playing a prank on you two?”

Matt shakes his head. “Not on me, I don't think. I always say no. They probably knew that, whoever they are, but they were whispering about it when Foggy approached me. It's about him more than it's about me. I thought one lunch wouldn't hurt.”

“You asked him to eat with us again,” Claire says, like he doesn't know it. “That's beyond the call of pity.”

“It's not—”

“Bullshit.” Matt winces. “You don't like it when people feel sorry for you. How do you think he'll feel when he finds out? And believe me, if you keep up with this, he will.”

“It isn't the same.” Claire scoffs, but Matt is sure on this. Matt is protecting Foggy, but it's not because there's anything tempting about his need for protection. It's because he shouldn't need it in the first place. “It's not.”

“Sure. So, what, he joins us for lunch again and you tell him you don't like him after all, sorry, you'll see him in debate?”

It's a better plan than it sounds when Claire says it like that. “People change their minds about who they're dating all the time. It's high school.”

“You think it won't upset him?”

“I think it will upset him less than knowing that people were setting him up for humiliation.”

Claire lets that pass in silence, just long enough for him to feel unsure of it before she says “You've got a point. He's not going to be happier either way. You're not a hero here, you know that? Just the lesser of two evils.”

“I don't want to be a hero.” Claire hums, but she doesn't disagree. “And I know he won't be happy, but it's not my job to make him happy. I just didn't want him to have to deal with being the victim of people like that.”

“Don't expect him to thank you.”

“I don't.”

“Okay.” She nods, a decisive movement that he can sense even though she must have her hair up. “In the meantime, he's a good guy. I don't mind having lunch with him.”

Matt lets his shoulders relax. She's finished with telling him it's a bad idea, and she doesn't usually tell him more than once. “He's funny,” he offers. “I'm glad you don't mind. Karen likes him too. He might be around more.”

“Right.” She might as well be shouting that there's more to say than that, but she doesn't bring it up. “What are you thinking about for the history project?”

It's a safe conversation, and it lasts the rest of the way to Claire's apartment, both of them tossing ideas back and forth. Claire prefers science, but she's good to brainstorm with anyway, and by the time they're up the stairs and in her kitchen, they both have ideas to submit and get started with.

“Do you know who sent him the note?” she asks while she looks through her fridge for a snack for them.

“No. It's hard to recognize voices with whispers. They're still paying attention, though, they were at lunch today.”

“That's why you invited him again?”

“Yes.” He's not sure of that, but it's the answer that makes the most sense.

Claire pulls something off a shelf and shuts the fridge door. “Of course,” she says, but she doesn't sound convinced. “Well, figure it out. If they've got a grudge, they're probably not going to leave it. In the mean time, I like him. Don't be an asshole when you let him down.”

“Of course not,” says Matt, and goes back to talking about history.

*

Matt knows Foggy is coming closer in the school library while he's listening to his screenreader read him arguments about the latest Lincoln-Douglas topic, but he still startles when Foggy knocks on the table like he's knocking on a door. “Hey,” says Foggy when Matt takes an earbud out and tilts his head. “Do you mind if I sit down? I won't talk or interrupt you, I just figured it was kind of silly that we're both in the library and not sitting together.”

“I didn't realize you have study hall this period.”

“Normally I stay in the classroom, but it's loud in there today and I'm doing my weekly research on possible International Extemp topics.”

“You've been doing a lot of speech this year.”

“Yeah, Owlsley thinks I'm good at it.” Cloth rustling. A shrug, probably. “It's cool, though, more people here are into Lincoln-Douglas than Public Forum, so I'm fine with that.”

“I'm doing research for Lincoln-Douglas right now,” Matt offers. “So we'll both be working on speech and debate.”

“Cool.” Foggy's chair scrapes against the carpet when he moves it. “Let me know if you want to talk out an argument. I work better in teams, but that doesn't mean I can't kick your ass.”

Matt is very aware. All he does is nod, though, and put his earbud back in.

Foggy doesn't seem inclined to silence, in general. No one on speech and debate really is, but whenever Matt happens to notice him he's always talking to someone new, with a joke or a story or something else to say, though he doesn't think Foggy is very close with anyone either. Now, though, he's surprised at how easily Foggy settles into silence. He taps his pen on the table sometimes while he thinks, and hums under his breath at intervals, but he doesn't talk.

Matt does, when the period is halfway finished and Foggy has moved from clicking around the internet to taking down notes, pen scratching against paper. “Finding anything useful?”

“Huh? Oh. Yeah, a few things. You?”

“A few. We shouldn't in the library, but I might take you up on your offer to debate later. You're the only person in this school who's beat me. It would help.”

Foggy laughs a little, nervous and awkward. “Call it luck. But sure, yeah, absolutely. I work a lot after school when I don't have debate, family business and all, but we can meet up. I think my sister's got the shop tomorrow afternoon.”

It's another day of this, but Foggy hasn't pressed him to hold hands or kiss or go on dates. Matt's willing to wait a little longer, to see if Foggy keeps not pressing and it can turn into a friendship instead of anything else. He thinks they could get along, maybe, even if Foggy isn't much like Karen or Claire. “I'll check in with Karen and my foster parents, but I should be free, as long as you don't mind.”

“Why would I mind? If you're worried about exploiting me for reasons of speech and debate, I'll make you give me an extemp topic and make up a speech in five minutes or less. Or pull you into doing a Forum at a meet with me sometime this year. Not that I'm assuming anything.”

Matt doesn't tell him to assume, but he does smile. “It will be like an extra team meeting—I'll be surprised if they don't ask you to be a captain next year. You can get used to it.”

“And you can stop fishing for compliments. Co-captains, obviously.” Matt wasn't fishing, but it's nice to hear that, like it's a foregone conclusion, Matt being put in charge. “Do you want to meet up somewhere neutral tomorrow? You can come to mine if you don't mind siblings and nosy parents, but I should warn you I've mentioned you.” Foggy's face heats up. “I was kind of excited when I got that note.”

Of course he was. “My apartment should be empty except for maybe Karen, and she'll leave us alone if we ask her to, or help out. She critiques my arguments sometimes.”

“Well, she's welcome.” Now he sounds disappointed, and Matt can't blame him, when he must be confused that Matt asked him out and isn't making excuses to spend time alone together. He really wishes he knew what the note said. “And if you're sure I'm not imposing. I could bring cookies again.”

“You don't need to. Doris and Ben will be happy I'm having a friend over, they won't object if you eat some of our snacks.”

“Okay. Your place tomorrow, then? I can find you after school and you can walk me home?”

“Sure.”

Foggy doesn't seem to have a response to that, because after a few seconds later he starts scribbling in his notebook again. Matt goes back to his screenreader, though he's out of useful ideas for his current argument and he should probably switch over to math homework.

After a few minutes, Foggy's foot taps against his under the table and then stays there, just gentle pressure that Matt can't ignore.

“I'll see you tomorrow,” Foggy says right before the bell rings for the end of the period, and Matt nods and makes sure to linger packing his bag even though it will make him late to class so he doesn't have to think of anything else to say.

*

Foggy is in the middle of a story about a debate he got into in history class and how ever since he's been creepingly terrified that James Wesley is going to kill him in his sleep for winning it so thoroughly when there's a knock on Matt's bedroom door.

“Come in,” Matt calls when Foggy stops immediately short. He knows Karen is somewhere around, but he hasn't done a very good job of paying attention to who's in the building, let alone the apartment, this afternoon.

When the door swings open, he can already tell it's Ben, the smell of his deodorant and the way his clothes always smell after a day at the paper. “Afternoon, Matt. Thought I'd come in and say hello, and Karen said you had company.”

“Hi.” Foggy stands up. “Foggy Nelson, sir.”

“I remember you, I think Karen introduced us once.” Ben says that with just enough emphasis that Matt can't help wincing, and Foggy's heart does something erratic and intimidated, though Matt knows Ben isn't very imposing. “Pleasure to meet you again, though. Are you staying for dinner?”

“No, no, my mom would kill me for imposing. Is it that late already?”

“We eat late, but you might want to call your mother if you don't. It's almost six.”

“Shit,” says Foggy, and then “Sorry” to both of them, probably for swearing, while he fumbles in his pocket for something. His phone, Matt can hear him unlocking it a second later. “I really overstayed my welcome, Matt, you should have stopped me, I'm pretty sure I've just been doing a monologue for the last half an hour.”

“I don't mind.” And he doesn't. Foggy went over his arguments with him and gave an extemporaneous speech from Matt's prompt about the leaked SHIELD files (“Too easy,” Foggy said when Matt gave him the topic, “it's old news and I read all the files I could last summer break,” and then he'd spoken for twice as long as necessary with half the prep time and kept Matt interested the whole time) and then they've been talking, not as much of a monologue as Foggy thinks. “I'm sorry I kept you away from home, though.”

“No worries, totally my fault. And dad texted half an hour ago, apparently I missed that. But yeah, I should go. Thanks for the reminder, Mr. Urich.”

“Of course.” Ben sounds amused. “You're welcome to come for dinner sometime, if you'd like, as long as there's warning.”

“Right, yeah.” Foggy is collecting his backpack and his debate binder, which he took out to take notes in for next week's meeting, putting them away and finding his shoes, in a hurry all of a sudden. Matt stands up, since he should see his guest out. “Again, sorry.”

“I'm glad Matt has someone over. I just wanted to know if you were staying for dinner, since he should have warned me about that.” Ben is still trying to sound stern, but amusement is winning out, Matt can hear it. He's not sure that's much better, but it's easier on Foggy, anyway.

“Another time,” says Matt. “We honestly just lost track of time.”

“I'm sure you did.”

“Oh, Jesus,” says Foggy. “No, no, we weren't—um.”

“Please don't defend my virtue,” Matt says, because Ben is muffling a smile with his hand now, and Foggy is warmer every second, blushing so much that he must be turning visibly red. “Do you need anything before you go, Foggy? Or will I see you at school?”

“I'm good. You'll see me at school. Uh.” A swish of Foggy's hair. He had it up with an elastic band when they started for the afternoon, but it's down now. He's probably looking at Ben, figuring out how to say goodbye to Matt with him standing there. “Thanks for having me over.”

Ben coughs, and even Foggy must know it's covering up a laugh. “Anytime, Foggy. Like I said, have Matt tell us in advance and you can stay.”

“Right.” A nervous laugh.

Matt reaches out and sidesteps until he finds Foggy's elbow. “Come on. I'll walk you out.”

“Night, Foggy. Come help me with setting the table when you're done, Matt, Doris will be home in twenty minutes and I'm making spaghetti.”

“Of course. Thanks, Ben.” Ben moves away, toward the kitchen, and Matt walks Foggy the few steps tot he door, somewhere between leading him and letting Foggy lead him. “Thanks for coming. And helping,” he says when they reach the door. He thinks, if he concentrates, he can hear Doris coming down the block. He'd like to say goodbye before she comes.

“No problem, man. I'm still working on talking you into doing Public Forum with me. I'm pretty sure we'd be an unbeatable team.”

Matt can't help smiling. “We might be. I'll think about it.”

“Hey, great.” Foggy sounds startled, but happy too, less nervous than he's been since Ben knocked on Matt's door. “So, I'll see you at school?”

“See you at school.” Foggy has his hand on the doorknob, but he isn't turning it, just standing there with his heartbeat speeding up. Matt's kicks up too, more with nerves than with anticipation. Is Foggy expecting a kiss? Something else?

After a second, Foggy just reaches out with his free hand and claps Matt gently on the shoulder, squeezing for a second before letting go. “See you at school,” he says again, and lets himself out.

Matt waits at the door for a few seconds, long enough to be sure that Doris is the one coming down the sidewalk and to hear Foggy's quiet “Shit” from the street, and then goes to help Ben in the kitchen.

Ben only waits until Matt has forks in his hands before he says anything. “Nice boy, Foggy Nelson. Is Karen okay with it?”

“Yes. She was the one who ended it with him, I think, and she's been supportive.” She left them alone after she got home, and at one point had a whispered conversation with Claire about how she thinks it started, which Claire at least tried to avoid. “I was the one who asked him out.”

“I didn't know you were interested. But I'm glad you gave it a shot. Behind you with the pot of water.” Matt obligingly freezes, and then continues to the cabinet for plates when Ben turns the stove on. “If it's going to be serious enough for him to spend time here, it should be serious enough for him to come for dinner.”

Matt can hear Doris's key in the lock. He knows Ben will tell her all about it, but he'd like to not be still having the conversation when she comes in. “Right. I don't think it's very serious, we were just talking about speech and debate all afternoon, but I'll invite him soon if we stay together.”

“Of course.” Ben sounds amused again, and Doris is inside, taking her coat and shoes off, putting on her slippers. Matt puts the plates down on the table to start putting them at everyone's places. “And Matt—next time your boyfriend spends the afternoon, door stays open.”

Doris comes into the kitchen just in time to ask why Matt dropped a fork on the floor.

*

On Monday, Foggy is quiet at lunch. He fidgets with everything in his reach and when Karen and even Claire ply him with leading questions, and when Matt brings up debate and whether Owlsley is going to make them do declamation to warm up, even that only gets a few minutes of chatting, before Karen finally takes over and starts talking about bio and how she got James Wesley as her lab partner for the next project.

“Are you okay?” Matt asks when Claire goes to dump her tray and Karen makes an excuse that she needs to talk to her about something in private. “You've been quiet.”

“No, I'm good, I just … want to meet up in the library during study hall?”

Matt frowns, puzzled. “Sure. If you'd like. I'm doing English homework today, but I don't have much.”

“Homework, yeah. I've got some math. But I'll see you in the library? I should go now, I need to swing by my locker.” Lie.

Matt doesn't want to argue with him, even though he's sure anyone could tell that Foggy is upset about something and covering it up, putting it off. Chances are Foggy is breaking up with him, for whatever reason, and that he's disappointed Matt isn't everything he was expecting, or that Matt isn't kissing him. “Nobody usually sits at the table you found me at last time. I think it must have a bad view or something.” It's directly in line from the security camera and everyone knows it. “I'll save you a seat if I get there first.”

“Cool. See you then. Say bye to Karen and Claire for me, I'm going to go.” And he does, walking just a little faster than usual. Getting away from Matt.

Karen asks if he's okay when they get back, and Claire seems worried, but Matt brushes them off. He doesn't know what's going on now, and it's stupid to let it bother him when this is a temporary arrangement.

Foggy is in the library before he is during study hall, and mutters some kind of greeting when Matt sits down across from him. Matt doesn't bother getting out any of his books or his tablet. He folds his hands on the table instead. “Something is wrong. What is it?”

“Have you changed your mind about me?” Foggy blurts, and then swears under his breath. “Sorry, that was really desperate, let's pretend I didn't say that. Just … we haven't exchanged numbers, or done anything except suddenly be friends, which is great, you're great. But if we're dating, maybe we could try something else sometime?”

Matt winces. “I'm sorry. I don't use my phone that often outside my family, so many people use pictures that I can't appreciate. But I'm happy to talk to you however you want.”

“Yeah, that's … what do _you_ want?”

Matt leans forward across the table. This is the time to tell Foggy he's not sure about things, that maybe the note was a little preemptive, but he likes Foggy. He hadn't quite expected that, or not to this extent anyway. Foggy would still be friendly, if Matt ended it, but he might go back to his old lunch table, wherever that was, and wouldn't try to talk Matt into doing Public Forum or tell Matt that quoting is an acceptable rhetorical device but that he should try using people besides Thurgood Marshall sometime. “What did I say I wanted?”

“Matt, come on.”

“I haven't … I didn't change my mind. What did I say I want?”

Foggy is blushing again. “I don't know, the only actual stated request was to go out with you, other than that it was a lot of stuff about liking listening to me debate and stuff. So I can't really extrapolate too much.”

“I do like listening to you debate.” That's anything but a lie, even if he wonders whether whoever wrote the note was paying attention, if they picked Matt for reasons beyond him saying no whenever someone asks him out. “I'm just bad at this, Foggy. That's all. I'm honestly surprised you're still interested in dating me.”

“Yeah, no idea why I'm interested in the guy who blew me out of the water for salutatorian years ago and makes debate judges weep and also happens to be hot. It's a mystery.”

Now Matt's the one blushing. “So we like each other. We're not breaking up?”

“Not if you don't want to.”

“I don't,” says Matt, and he knows a lie when he hears one, but unfortunately, this is the truth.

Foggy immediately perks up. Matt can hear him straighten, can almost feel the weight leaving his shoulders. “So that means I get your phone number?”

“You get my phone number,” Matt agrees. “I don't really text, for obvious reasons, but this way you can get in touch with me if you want to.”

“Awesome.” Matt is starting to figure out what Foggy's voice sounds like when he's really happy, not just his baseline cheer, and this is it, warm and a little quieter than usual. Matt can't help smiling in response, even though he still wants to wince at the complications of this, at wanting to spend more time with Foggy when that's not what this was supposed to be at all. “So, can I … zero pressure. Obviously. My big sister would punch me if there was implied pressure. But can I kiss you sometime?”

“Yes,” says Matt, too fast, and that's not a lie either. Stick would be horrified. “Not in the library, obviously.”

Foggy laughs. “Obviously. We wouldn't want you getting in trouble, Mr. Pristine Record.”

“My record isn't pristine,” says Matt. He got suspended punching someone for Karen two weeks after he moved in with her and the Urichs, and he's had a few detentions for mouthing off to teachers.

“Well, that sounds like a story, but maybe not one for the library.” Foggy presses his foot against Matt's under the table again. “Hey, what are you doing after school today?”

Therapy. Matt's caseworker and the Urichs agree that he should see someone at least once a month, and today is the day, but Matt doesn't want to mention that, and it's not until four anyway. “I'm free until a little after three,” he offers.

“That's too bad. Maybe I can walk you partway home?”

“Sure.” Matt is still smiling. He's not certain where any of this is coming from, and he's going to have to think about it all later, how any of it managed to sneak up on him, but he's smiling anyway. “I'll meet you at my locker?”

“Definitely.”

They lapse into silence after that, but Matt doesn't get much work done even if his hands are moving across his English book. Foggy isn't bothering to flip pages or scribble anything down, though he seems to be pressing buttons on his tablet occasionally, so he might be getting something done, although the way he mutters “Thank God” when the bell finally rings makes Matt think that's probably not the case.

Foggy taps his arm as soon as they're outside the library doors, and Matt lets Foggy pull him into a recess in the hallway. There's a rush of people going by, but Matt tunes them all out, because Foggy is close enough that Matt can smell and hear everything, all of it in overdrive, so he knows just the way Foggy's heartbeat changes before he leans in, slow enough that even if Matt didn't have his senses he could push him away, and kisses the corner of Matt's mouth.

It's not bad, as first kisses go. Matt turns his head into it automatically, even though Foggy is already pulling away. “I'll see you after school,” says Matt, and he's surprised at how low his voice is.

Foggy's heart is still almost beating its way out of his chest. “At your locker. Right. I've got to get to class. Bye, Matt.”

“Bye,” says Matt, and they turn to go to their classes, but he's tuned into Foggy, keeping one ear on him as he fumbles his cane into position and starts walking.

“It's fine,” he hears Foggy say when he gets to his next class. “We're okay, he definitely wants to be dating. I told you it's fine.”

“Sure,” says whoever was worrying, a girl with a vaguely familiar voice, and she doesn't sound sure at all.

*

“You're dating Foggy Nelson, right?”

Matt, in the middle of sorting out his materials before debate practice, looks up at the words—it's still a reflex, even if he can't see more that way than he can with his head down. A girl, soft accent, Italian—Vanessa. She mostly does speech, and joined the team last year before Wilson Fisk graduated, when they started dating. He thinks they still are, because Fisk sometimes volunteers to come help out with the team and he plays favorites. “Yes.” There's no reason to lie.

“What made you decide to do it?”

Matt shrugs and moves a few papers. She's never talked to him before, and she's rising quickly to the top of his list of people who might have left Foggy the note. He just doesn't know why she would have. “Why did you decide to date Fisk?”

She laughs, like that was actually funny instead of defensive. “Because he asked me.”

“And I'm dating Foggy because I like him. It doesn't have to be an exciting story.” He finishes getting his papers in order. “Why do you ask?”

“Just interested. You're our two best team members, people talk.”

“There's nothing interesting to say.”

“I suppose not.” She keeps leaning on the table near him, even though Matt is hoping the conversation ends before Foggy comes in. “Are you two planning to debate together?”

Matt frowns. “Maybe. Foggy wants to try Public Forum. I think it could be a good idea. But it would have been a good idea even if we weren't dating.” He can hear Foggy coming down the hall now—he's walking with Fisk and Owlsley, sounds like, and is doing his best to make awkward conversation. “Why do you ask?”

“Just curious.” She moves away from the desk, and her heart speeds up a little. She isn't telling the whole truth, and his suspicions are only getting more solid, even though he still can't think of any reason she would be involved. Vanessa doesn't seem the type to torment Foggy just because she can. “I'll wish the two of you luck, then.”

“In debate or in dating?” Matt asks, because he can't help himself, and she just laughs.

Foggy comes in the door a second later, and comes over to collapse in a chair next to Matt like it's something they've always done. “Man, let me tell you, it has been a long day,” he says, and launches into a story about a pair of freshman who he's going to officially declare his nemeses if they keep screwing with the locker next to his.

There's attention on them—some of it is friendly and curious, but there's the prickling feeling of people watching that doesn't come with whispered gossip, and it makes Matt search out Foggy's hand and clumsily laces their fingers together. Foggy stops in mid-story, a full two seconds of silence, and then starts again exactly where he left off but much softer, and Matt leans in to listen until Owlsley calls everyone to attention.

*

Matt eats lunch alone with Claire a few days later—Foggy doesn't share lunch with them today, and Karen is in the health center with a migraine, so it's just the two of them at their usual table.

“It's real now,” Matt says after a few minutes of silence as they settle down. The silence isn't expectant or awkward, but he wants to tell her. She's the only one who knows it ever wasn't.

“That's the way you want it?”

Matt takes a drink of water. “Yes.”

“Okay.”

Claire's lack of questions always makes him want to explain more. He's never sure if she does it on purpose or not. “He's nice. And he's smart. I like talking to him, and listening to him.”

“He's a great guy.” There's still not much tone to her voice, but her heartbeat is picking up a little. Matt waits to see if she's going to say anything else. “Can you be sure this isn't going to bite you in the ass? Whoever set this up, they're not going to like that it backfired.”

Matt frowns. “I wish I knew who it was. Vanessa Marianna was asking some questions, but I don't think she had a reason. I can't see why _anyone_ would have a reason. It's Foggy.”

To his surprise, Claire laughs. “You're actually serious about this.”

“I told you I was.”

“I know.” She goes serious again. “It's just good to know that you aren't talking yourself into this to be nice or something like that. If it helps, I'll keep my eye out, though you'll probably hear anything before I do. He talks a lot, though. Probably he pissed someone off.”

Matt may be changing his mind quickly on everything about Foggy, but he can acknowledge that he can annoy some people. It still doesn't seem like an excuse for setting him up for a joke like the one they tried. “Please do keep an eye out. Mine don't exactly work.”

Claire snorts. “Like I said, you're going to figure it out way before I do, or it's going to go wrong before either of us does. You do realize that all they have to do to screw with him now is to say you didn't write the letter, and if he asks you to prove that you did you won't be able to quote one bit of it at him.”

“I know.” Matt fiddles with the hem of his shirt. “Maybe they'll decide they're not pissed off anymore.”

“Right.” He doesn't think it's very likely either. “The circumstances are shitty, Matt. But I'm glad you like him.”

The circumstances are almost always shitty. Matt can try to do his best with them, and if Foggy finds out and he's hurt or angry, at least Matt is used to things being temporary.

*

Foggy is an amazing kisser.

They're in Matt's bedroom again, with Karen in the next room and the door shut despite Ben's rules, mostly because Karen shut it for them when she made a point of saying she was going to work on her homework. Considering her phone has been buzzing steadily, she's probably texting someone, but Matt stopped paying much attention to that a while ago, because Foggy is kissing him, did it once when Karen left and then kept going when Matt put an arm around his neck.

It's been half an hour or more, Matt is pretty sure of that, and Matt is sprawled sideways on his bed, pillows putting him at a strange angle, Foggy's English binder digging into his thigh, with Foggy draped halfway on top of him, his mouth open against Matt's, both of them breathing hard. Matt is hard, he's been hard since Foggy encouraged Matt's mouth open and started brushing his thumb over the corner of Matt's jaw, and it's worse because Foggy is too—his hips are pressed into Matt's mattress, but Matt can _smell_ him, and he's not as far gone as Matt is, but he's close.

“We should stop,” Matt whispers when one of them tilts the wrong way and their mouths come unstuck. It's true, even if he doesn't mean it. Karen is next door, after all, and he's lost track of time. Ben or Doris could be home any minute.

Foggy moves away a little and swallows, but Matt doesn't let him get far. His arm is still around Foggy's neck. “Probably. Are you okay, there?”

Matt is probably red enough from being turned on that his blush doesn't show, but he's so close to squirming Foggy must be able to sense it. “Yeah, I just. We should stop.” Now that they _have_ stopped, he's a little more sure of it. He doesn't want to come like this, making out on his bed after school. He doesn't want romance, doesn't care much about waiting, but it still feels too soon. “Sorry.”

“Hey, no worries.” Foggy rolls away, and Matt is too hot to feel cold but it's still a shock not to have Foggy on top of him. “You're the voice of reason here, man. And also a correct voice of reason, so bonus points. I don't have a change of underpants here, and we were heading in that direction.”

Matt fumbles on the pillow next to his head until he finds his sunglasses, which went askew sometime in the first five minutes and came off a few kisses later. He feels a little steadier with them on. “Do you need a drink or anything?”

“I need to sit here and thank very hard about baseball statistics before I do anything that has the slightest chance of me running into Karen, thanks.” Foggy's breathing is steadying out, but his heartbeat is still fast, and the smell of him is still the strongest scent in Matt's nose, which isn't helping him calm down.

“You can use the bathroom,” Matt offers, and immediately regrets it, because then he would smell it for weeks, under the smell of toilet cleaner and everyone's shampoo.

Foggy laughs nervously, and his heartbeat speeds up again. “No, uh. No, thanks. Baseball statistics. I don't actually know any baseball statistics, but metaphorical baseball statistics.”

“Tell me how you did in your debate with Wesley the other day, I'm sorry I was in the other room and I missed it.”

“Beat him, of course,” says Foggy, all smugness, and that question was clearly a mistake too, because Foggy's even more attractive when he's smug and sure of himself. “I think he hates me a little, but that's probably because Fisk hates me a little too because I won against him a couple times before he graduated last year.”

Matt grins. “So did I. It might explain why you're being shunted off into speech. Fisk has pull still. He's probably that petty.”

“Why aren't you being pushed into speech too?” It's the right conversation after all, it seems, because Foggy's heartbeat finally starts slowing, and Matt is finally distracted enough that his circulation is starting to normalize. It's going to take time to get calm again, but they might manage it. “You just said you beat him. And I'm pretty sure if they ever paired you with Wesley you would make him cry.”

Matt really doubts it. He doesn't like Wesley much but he's intimidating, in his own way. Even the athletes avoid him, no hint of the casual bullying Matt hears in the halls every day. “Because they can't pretend I would be better at speech than at debate.”

“That's because you are constitutionally incapable of writing out a full argument or a full speech without quoting Thurgood Marshall at least once. I don't know how the hell you got obsessed with him, but I had to look him up one time because you kept quoting him and I refused to be outclassed.”

“You quoted Kermit the Frog once,” Matt points out, and Foggy's laugh would make it easy to keep on that subject, but they're still on his bed and he may as well admit it. “It's one of the only books my dad kept around our house, when I was a kid. He wouldn't read from it or anything, and I ignored it when I could still read print, so I don't even know why he had it, but I didn't want to get rid of it when they put me in the system. Ben got me a Braille copy last year, even though I'd used my screenreader for most of it before that.”

“Jesus.” Foggy breathes out, and he takes some time before he speaks again. “Okay, that would probably make me quote someone all the time too.”

The conversation is a good distraction from Matt's body, but he doesn't like how unhappy Foggy sounds, so he reaches out until he can touch his forearm and hold on a little. “At least he didn't keep _Calvin & Hobbes_ around, that would be more difficult to use for debate.”

Foggy laughs. “That is very untrue, and I'm going to prove it,” he says, and starts listing evidence, reaching out for his tablet after a minute to get better quotes, giving Matt a stitch in his side from laughter while he uses it to argue for and against every topic they've covered in debate for the past two weeks and does it well.

By the time Karen knocks on the door to say that Doris is almost home and they should open the door, Matt feels almost back to normal and Foggy smells that way, though the smell of them together is ground deep into Matt's sheets and won't be easy to get out. “Glad you two had a good afternoon,” she mutters to Matt as he passes her to wash his hands while Foggy starts packing his bag up, since he has to go home for dinner.

“We really did,” says Matt, and ignores the way she laughs at him, because he's still listening to Foggy humming in the bedroom.

*

“Okay, freeze.” Matt freezes. “Now, going off at maybe a little less than a forty-five degree angle from there, a line curving down—not too much of a curve, just a gentle one.”

“A gentle curve,” Matt says, dubious. “This is like a trust exercise.”

Foggy laughs. “Not enough of a curve that you would be able to fit a whole circle that size on the paper from there. Just a little curl. And it's your own fault for wanting to stick it to asshole teachers who decide that an art component is a great part of a project for a blind kid to do.”

“She wouldn't have minded if I said no, I'm just annoyed that she didn't think of it herself when she made the assignment.” Matt frowns and starts drawing the curve. It probably isn't going to be much of a map, but he'll have made one, anyway. “Thank you for helping.”

“No way, man, this is the most fun I've had all—okay, stop there.” Matt stops. “We're almost there, believe it or not, we've just got to connect coastlines. There's a little bit of zigging and zagging in there, but I am not a miracle worker.”

Matt frowns at his paper. “How much zigging and zagging?”

Foggy snorts. “Hearing you say the words 'zigging and zagging' is kind of amazing, you've normally got too much dignity for that. And enough that it would take us twenty minutes to do it all when we've only got five minutes left in the period. So. You made a big dot for the start point that you can feel, right?” Matt nods. “Make another dot where you're at right now, and then we'll figure out what to do from there.”

Matt makes the dot, even though he can feel the lines dug into the paper, and runs his fingers over the space in between them. “Is it about straight, or does it curve out or in?”

“Out a little. There's a decent-sized notch about a quarter of the way from the left, but other than that there's only the usual coastline zigs and zags. You ready to try it?”

Matt nods and starts making the line, coming from the left and making the notch when Foggy makes a noise that turns approving the second he does it. It's easy enough to connect the lines, and when he finishes, Foggy cheers quietly and then looks around quickly, hair moving, like he's making sure the librarian doesn't scold them for being too loud. “There,” says Matt, and puts his pencil down. “It's probably not much of a map, but I wasn't really an artist before the accident either.”

“Are you kidding? Matt Murdock original, right here. You've got to sign that sucker so they'll know it's not a fake when they put it in a museum someday. People like blind artists, it makes them feel like they've been reading uplifting Buzzfeed articles, you could make a mint.”

Matt laughs. “I think there has to be some talent for that to happen.” Even so, he finds the corner of the paper and writes his signature. He worked hard with his occupational therapist after the accident for that, for a neat and legible signature, and she ended up telling him his handwriting was better after the accident than before it, practically copperplate cursive. He finishes with a flourish. “There. When she passes it back with her guilty A+, I'll let you have it for your bedroom wall.”

“You … huh.” Foggy's heartbeat speeds up, and Matt tilts his head, curious, but Foggy doesn't explain what he's curious about—or upset about, because when he speaks again, he sounds like someone is crushing his windpipe. “No, keep it for your portfolio. Art school on the way, right?”

Matt frowns. “Are you okay?”

“No, yeah, I'm fine, I just forgot something in my locker that I need to grab before class.” Lie. Something is wrong, and Foggy is lying, and Matt isn't sure what to do about that. “You don't mind if I head out, right?”

“Not at all. If you're sure you're okay. I'll see you after school, I guess?”

“Yeah, definitely.” Lie again. Foggy is scooping his papers into his backpack, and he likes being neat with them, he says if he doesn't start out neat he'll never get organized again, but Matt can hear the loose papers crumpling in his bag. “See you then, or I'll call, I might have to talk to someone after school.”

Lie, lie, lie, but Foggy is picking up his bag and going before Matt can pull himself together enough to find some shred of evidence to pull at that doesn't have anything to do with heartbeats and breathing. He doesn't even say goodbye, which he always, always does if he's walking away from Matt, like he doesn't want to leave Matt talking to thin air.

Foggy is lying, and Foggy is upset, and it started the second Matt signed his drawing.

Matt isn't completely certain what that adds up to, but he knows it's nothing good.

*

Foggy doesn't meet him after school, even though he almost always swings by Matt's locker these days, even if Matt is hanging out with Claire or Karen or Foggy is working at the shop or spending time with one of his friends or extensive family. He doesn't call Matt later, and he doesn't answer the phone when Matt calls at the time he always roughly takes his break if he's closing up at the store. He doesn't meet Matt before school the next day, which isn't a regular occurrence but does happen sometimes. He doesn't sit with Matt and Karen at lunch—isn't even at lunch even though he has it with them, and Karen sounds worried about it.

Foggy doesn't sit with Matt in debate, even though he comes, slips in a little late with Marci Stahl, who's so busy with student council that she rarely comes to meetings and who herds him over to the far side of the room even when Matt tries to say hello to Foggy and ask if he's okay. (He knows Foggy isn't okay.)

“You go home,” Foggy tells Marci at the end of the meeting, in a whisper.

“I'm not leaving you alone with him,” she hisses back, and Matt takes a second to place her voice—the one who was worrying about Foggy, when Matt decided he wanted it to be real with them.

“Marci, it's fine. What do you think he's going to do?”

“You know what I think he's going to do.”

Foggy sighs. Matt lingers over packing everything up. He wants Foggy to be able to catch him. “Wait for me out front? You can come over to mine after and we'll play video games and I promise I won't cry.” Oh, no.

“Fine,” says Marci, but it's grudging, and she picks up her things in a huff and leaves, brushing past Owlsley asking her if she's going to be at meetings more often.

“I think we should talk,” Foggy says when he comes over to Matt, and there's something horrible and final about it.

“B Hallway is usually clear this time of day,” Matt offers, and the two of them start walking in that direction. Matt wants to put his hand on Foggy's arm, something they're just starting to try out, but he doesn't think he would be welcome. “I haven't talked to you since the library yesterday. You're upset, I can tell.”

Foggy sighs. “See, I've tried to think of this every way I can and the only answer I can come up with is that you didn't write me that note.”

Matt stumbles to a stop, even though aren't to B Hallway yet. “What makes you say that?”

“Evasion.” Matt winces. There's a thread of anger in the middle of everything, all the hurt and upset Matt is beginning to understand, and it's dangerous. Foggy is very smart, and Matt doesn't underestimate that, but he hasn't had it turned on him before either. “Because I thought it was really sweet that you typed the note out for me and then signed it in your very own hand, even if the handwriting sort of sucked, but your handwriting doesn't suck, Matt. Unless you've got two signatures.”

Of course, the signature. He'd known the note was computer-printed, it wouldn't have been believable or logical for him to have handwritten the note, but he hadn't realized they'd signed it for him, probably messy handwriting that someone would expect from the blind kid. There's no way out of this, and even if there was, Matt isn't going to take it. A lie of omission is one thing, but outright falsehoods are another. “No, just. Just one.”

“Right.” Foggy's heartrate is picking up, faster and faster. “So, someone else wrote a note hoping you'd turn me down and thought it was funny or something. Whatever, teenagers are assholes. What I don't get, Matt, is why you _played along_.”

Matt winces. The explanation sounds flimsy out loud. He's known that since he told Claire. It's the only explanation he has, though. “I thought you would get sick of me, no one would have their feelings hurt—but Foggy, I have real feelings for you, I might not have if I hadn't played along, but I _do_ now.”

“You think that _helps_?” Foggy's voice cracks. “Great, you pity dated me and then fell for your own trap, that sounds great, that definitely sounds like something I want to be involved in.”

“It isn't pity,” Matt says, even if he knows it's useless and that it might be better if he had evidence to back up a “wasn't.”

“Right. Right.” Foggy breathes in, and Matt thinks about debate practice and listening to Foggy gear up before he takes someone's argument apart. “So if I said that I said yes to the note because you're the blind kid and I didn't want to leave you in the lurch, but it's okay, it turned out I actually liked you, you would be cool with that.” Matt can't help his flinch. “Yeah, that's what I thought.”

“I'm sorry.” It's the best beginning he can manage. “You would have been unhappy—”

“But I wouldn't have been unhappy with _you_. This is … shit.” Foggy's voice breaks. “You couldn't have said people were being assholes but hey, I should sit with you at lunch, give them one in the eye? Then I could feel like I seduced you on my own merits.”

“You did.” Foggy makes an unhappy noise, and Matt reaches out, doesn't quite touch him. “I didn't kiss you until I was sure I wanted it to be real.”

“Great, that makes me feel so much better.” Foggy paces a few steps away and then back. “How many people know?”

Matt hopes he doesn't look as upset as he feels, because he doesn't have the right, right now. “Claire. That's it. And don't blame her, she knew it was a bad idea, but she keeps secrets.”

“Not Karen.”

“No. She wouldn't have liked it.”

Foggy laughs. He doesn't sound amused. “So you knew it was wrong. You just decided to do it anyway.”

Matt dug himself a hole, and he was hoping he would never had to dig himself out of it. He wants to tell Foggy that he heard people whispering, he heard all the hope in Foggy's heartbeat, he smelled how much Foggy wanted to kiss him, but that would only make things worse. Spilling all his secrets won't help the aftermath of this one. “Yes.”

“You—yes. Okay.” Foggy runs his hands through his hair, and he paces again, just a few steps. “God. At least this just lasted a couple weeks. It's a blip.”

“You aren't ...” Matt swallows, because this is so selfish, it's too selfish, but he has to say it. “You don't plan to give me a chance to apologize and try to make it up to you?”

“What, you think I _should_?” Matt doesn't let himself flinch this time. Of course Foggy is angry, and of course he has the right to tell Matt he never wants to talk to him again. “Look, tell Karen and your parents and whoever whatever you want, just not the truth. Doesn't seem like that's a problem for you, anyway.”

There's really no response Matt can make to that, and after a few silent seconds, Foggy sighs and walks away.

Matt waits in B hallway and takes off his sunglasses to press his hands to his eyes so his tears don't spill over. It was a couple of weeks. A blip. He regrets hurting Foggy, regrets not having the chance to fix it, but he doesn't really have the right to cry over it.

He waits until Foggy and Marci have left the building before he starts moving again.

*

“Are you okay, Matt, honey? You seem a little upset tonight.”

Matt makes a conscious effort to stop poking at the food remaining on his plate, because Doris sounds concerned and the rare dinners that all four of them sit down for are usually full of talk and Matt suspects his mood has brought everyone down, given how quiet things have been. “Foggy and I broke up, that's all.”

There's a flood of concern from all three of them, Doris's sympathy and Karen's sudden fluttering worry and Ben's quiet “You want to talk about it, son?” cutting through it.

Matt shakes his head. “It's private. Sorry.”

All of them know to drop it by now, even though it's not any of their first instinct to leave him alone when he's at his worst. It still puts a damper on the rest of dinner, even though Doris tries with stories from work and Karen talks brightly about her latest assignment for the school paper and Ben has his usual weary complaints about his editor.

“I'll clear the table,” Matt says when none of them has anything more to say, and he can sense the looks they all give each other, debating who's going to help him clean up in the kitchen.

“I'll help,” Karen finally says. She's probably the best of the three for this, at least. Ben and Doris know what the world is like, but they're romantics. Of course they would be, given what their marriage is like. Matt doesn't want to hear about other fish, or anything else.

“Thanks.”

They get the table clear and start putting leftovers away and doing the dishes with the ease of practice—Matt hates doing the dishes from the smell of food in hot water and the feel of it against his hands, but he likes the rhythm of it, and tonight Karen is letting him dry instead of wash.

“It was my fault,” Matt says when Karen is washing the silverware, all of it clattering around in her hands. “The break-up. You don't need to be sympathetic, because I was an asshole.”

“Matt.” She sounds teary, and that makes it worse. “Did you break up with him, you mean?”

“No, I mean I did something. I knew it was stupid, and I did it, and he was right to break up with me.”

Karen washes a few dishes. “You didn't mean to, right?”

“I didn't mean for it to hurt him, anyway.”

“You actually like him.” Matt doesn't answer, doesn't even nod, but Karen doesn't seem to need it, because she keeps going. “I kind of wondered. He said you were the one to ask him out, but you never talked about him, and you talked a lot about Elektra before you asked her out.”

Matt takes the silverware from her to dry. “I actually like him.”

“It's not just a fight?” Matt shakes his head. “I'm sorry. Foggy's great. And I'll probably be pissed off at you later for hurting him, but for now I'm going to be on your side because you need someone in your corner, and Claire's always there, but it can't hurt to have both of us there.”

Matt swallows. “I really don't deserve it, in this case.”

Karen drops the plate she's washing back in the water and puts her arms around him. Her hands are wet and soapy and his shirt feels disgusting the second she touches it, but she's warm and her chin is sharp pressed against his collarbone and she keeps holding on until he leans into the hug. “Doesn't matter. That's kind of how friends work. I'm in your corner, even if I reserve the right to call you a dick later if I hear gossip.”

“Thank you.” Matt lets her hold on, brings his arms up to hold on to her too, and stays there until he can shake the memory of Foggy pacing up and down the hallway, upset and ending it, at least a little. “We should finish the dishes before the water gets cold,” he finally says, and gives her a squeeze before he lets her go.

Sometime in the next few days he'll sneak out and go to the gym after hours, and he'll practice his forms until he's too sore to think, and then he'll get back to normal as much as he can. He'll still have Karen and Claire and Ben and Doris, and that's an embarrassment of riches.

*

In a school as big as theirs, Foggy doesn't have to avoid him, not really. All he has to do is not seek Matt out, and Matt does him the favor of not looking for him either, even if all that does is point out to him just how attuned he's become to where Foggy is and where they can intersect in the halls depending on what route he takes to class.

It's easy not to run into people you don't want to run into, so Matt is immediately suspicious when a half-familiar heartbeat falls into step with him on his way to lunch the day after Foggy breaks up with him and a second later Wesley says “Hi, it's James. Are you doing okay?”

“Hi.” Matt tries to keep his voice light, but he already wants to snap. “Why wouldn't I be doing okay?”

“I heard about you and Foggy, that's all.” He can hear Wesley shrug, even though it can't be a real shrug and he's definitely not doing it for Matt's benefit. “Speech and debate gossip.”

“I didn't think we were such an interesting topic. We weren't together for long.”

Another shrug, though this one might be a little more honest. “Well, you haven't dated anyone since the exchange student last year. People talk.”

“I'm sure they do.” _Did you leave the note?_ Matt wants to ask, but he's almost sure of the answer to that, and that Vanessa is the other side of the answer. The real question is _why_ , and he's not sure he'll ever get that answer, if it even still matters. Matt's clearly hurt Foggy more than Wesley or Vanessa could have set out to.

“Matt,” Claire calls from down the hall, and Matt hopes he doesn't look as relieved as he feels. “At your two o'clock, can you get here?”

“Excuse me,” Matt says, and ducks away from Wesley. He's probably navigating too easily through the crowd, using his cane too little, but if Wesley keeps pressing just for the opportunity to gloat, Matt might punch him, and he doesn't want that.

“Here I am,” says Claire, when the traffic in the hall carries him too far, and grabs his arm so they can go the rest of the way to the cafeteria together. “Was that James Wesley? What did he want?”

“To gloat about Foggy, I think.” Matt lets Claire pull him to the side so he doesn't get clipped by an opening locker door. “Karen probably told you.”

“You could have called me, you know? Karen said you didn't want to talk, but I know sometimes ...”

Matt shakes his head. “If I wanted to talk to anyone about it, Karen would have been fine, just like you are. But I don't. It went wrong in exactly the way it was always going to, and that's all.”

“Right.” Claire doesn't sound like she believes him. “Do I get anything else at all?”

If he was going to explain it all to anyone, it would be Claire. She already knows more of the story than anyone else, and she isn't afraid to tell him he's being an asshole, but she would have some sympathy too. He would tell her, but he's afraid of choking up when he does it. She wouldn't mind, but it's embarrassing to even think about, so Matt just shakes his head. “Not yet. He found out because I made a stupid mistake and he broke it off. Rightly.”

“He was always going to find out,” she says, turning them into the door to the cafeteria. “Better from one of your mistakes than from someone else letting him know. At least this way the fallout was pretty private.” She raises her voice as they get near their table. “Hey, Karen. How's your day?”

“Okay.” She's already sitting down, her leg jigging up and down under the table as Matt and Claire find their seats and get their lunches out, and her voice is too soft and sympathetic when she says “How about you, Matt? Everything okay?”

Matt knows his shrug is more of a jerk of the shoulders, but he can't help that. “I'm fine.” Claire mouths something, probably a negation, and he can't blame her. He's fine acknowledging what a mess things are as long as they don't press too hard with their sympathy. “I just don't want to talk about it.”

“You don't have to.” Karen clears her throat. “I'll talk instead. Ben texted earlier, he says the Bulletin is looking for some interns to do online content, and I might apply. There might be some nepotism, but I don't know. It sounds good.”

“You'll do great.” Matt sounds a little too eager, but both of them will understand that. “And I don't think Ben would do nepotism if he didn't think you deserve it.”

Claire laughs a little. “I could use some nepotism at the hospital, there's this one administrator who's got it out for me.”

They get through lunch without too much awkwardness, even though Matt can hear Foggy talking sometimes across the lunch room to a few people Matt doesn't know well and he has to keep forcing himself back to Claire and Karen comparing volunteering stories.

Claire takes his arm when lunch is over, since their classes are on the same hallway, and waits until Karen has turned in the other direction. “Feeling a little better?”

Foggy is about five people ahead of them, walking on his own, but that's not what Claire means. “Yes,” he says, and it's honest. It's good, listening to Karen and Claire. “Thank you.”

“Come over sometime this week. We'll talk, listen to some music. I can help you with chem if you help me with history.”

Matt breathes out and smiles and tries not to listen to Foggy's heartbeat as he turns down the hall heading to class. “I'm going to go home and help Karen with her application this afternoon, but maybe tomorrow? You aren't volunteering, right?”

They're almost to Claire's classroom, and when they get there, Claire puts her arm around Matt, and he turns into it and lets her hug him for a few seconds before she pulls away. “I'm not. I'll make sure we've got snacks you like, and I'll tell Santiago you're coming to the building, he'll come over and chat your ear off.”

Matt swallows. “Thanks, Claire.”

“You're welcome,” she says, and pushes him gently away so he can get to his classroom on time.

*

Foggy loses a debate with Vanessa.

It's just a test debate, about form more than arguments, something stupid Matt forgets the topic of as soon as it's finished, but Foggy loses, and Matt hasn't heard him lose in a long time. It's a fair loss, too—with Fisk and Owlsley judging, he's not sure of fairness, but he's listening, and Foggy is off, not as quick off the mark as usual, and Matt knows it's his fault.

“Sorry,” Matt says after, when they're packing up and Foggy finally walks near enough to him that he could actually be reasonably expected to have seen him.

Foggy sighs for so long it sounds like he's deflating. “Can we please not?”

“Sorry,” Matt says again, and then winces. “I just … if I threw you off, I'm sorry.”

“Life threw me off, Matt.” Foggy sounds tired and a little annoyed, and Matt should really leave him alone, but Foggy isn't walking away, either. He's willing to press his luck a little. “Blaming yourself for me screwing up isn't actually helpful.”

“Right. I'll let you get home.”

Foggy takes a few steps away, far enough for Matt to turn back to his bag, getting everything settled into it mostly so he won't be following Foggy a few steps behind in the hall, and then he stops. “Are you still in for Public Forum?”

Matt almost drops his tablet. “Are _you_?”

“No, I'm just asking for fun. Look, I'm pissed off, but we're still the best debaters in this school, despite today's stunning show of sucking at arguing something I actually agree with. We could win.”

“We could. If you don't mind dealing with me.”

“God, you're dramatic. I wouldn't mention it as a joke. Just because I don't want to date you under false pretenses and pity or whatever doesn't mean I don't think we'd make a good team.”

Matt wants to say it wasn't pity, but he's still trying to figure out how to explain it all and convince Foggy without sounding like he's lying. “We can let Owlsley know we want to try it next time, then. Do some practice during meetings.”

“Right. Cool.” Foggy shifts a little—fiddling with the straps of his backpack, from the sound of it. “So, are you going to lurk in here until I'm gone, or are we going to try the maturity thing and walk out of the school together?”

No matter what Matt's instincts are, he suspects that Foggy won't be happy if he says that he thought Foggy wouldn't want to talk to him at all, much less walk out of the school with him. Instead, he puts his tablet away and zips up his bag. “I think we're supposed to set good examples for the underclassmen. Maturity is probably wise.”

“Okay then, let's do it for wisdom and maturity. Ready to go?” Matt nods. “Heading out, then.”

They don't say a word on their way out of the school, and Foggy goes in the opposite direction from Matt as soon as they're out the door even though Matt knows that will take him the long way home, but it's something, anyway. Matt isn't going to complain about what he gets.

*

“Murdock.”

Matt, leaving the school on his own since Claire got dismissed early for an appointment and Karen is staying after for the paper, stops. Owlsley, he figures out after a second. “Mr. Owlsley, we don't have practice this afternoon, right?”

“No, no, I'm filing some paperwork.” Owlsley always sounds exasperated, and this isnt any exception. “Nelson sent me an e-mail. You want to try Public Forum?”

Matt shrugs. “I think we'd make a good team. We've been talking about it.”

“Right.” A snort. “You think I don't pay attention, kid? There's been some tension. You two going to screw it up before the meet? I don't usually bother with team debates with high schoolers, always too much drama.”

“We'll be fine.” Matt winces, but he deserves at least something like an assurance. “There were some problems, but they're worked out. It shouldn't make a difference.”

He can't actually hear Owlsley roll his eyes, but he can make an educated guess. “If you're sure. You're the best I've got on Lincoln-Douglas but if you want to give it a try, I guess I can't stop you. Just wish I knew you were interested before, I would have teamed you and Fisk up last year, you would have been unbeatable.”

Matt knows just enough about Fisk to know that they're alike, but he doesn't like him. He never heard him bullying anyone, but Matt knew the way people avoided him, and who he was friends with, and who he chatted pleasantly with in the bathrooms. He shakes his head. “I think we use too many of the same kinds of arguments. I think Foggy and I have different angles, which helps.”

“If you're sure.” Owlsley sighs. “No drama, Murdock, or I'll rethink this. Expect to start practicing. I might pair you off against Marianna and Wesley, they aren't too interested but you need someone to practice against.”

Of course Vanessa and Wesley—they aren't as good as he and Foggy, but they're close, even if their tactics aren't anything like each other. Matt doesn't like it, though. More and more as time goes on, he thinks they're the ones who wrote that note to Foggy on Matt's behalf, for winning too many debates or speaking up too much or something else stupid like that. He'd rather not deal with them, but he can't object without letting everyone know what happened, and Foggy doesn't want that information getting out. “Thank you, Mr. Owlsley. I'll keep practicing Lincoln-Douglas as well, and I'm sure Foggy is willing to keep doing speech.”

“He'd better be. I'm trying to get us a reputation. Keep winning, don't make trouble, and we won't have a problem.”

“Right. We won't make trouble.” And they'll win.

“Then go home, Murdock, what are you still doing here?”

That's as close to a dismissal as Owlsley ever gives, so Matt nods at him and goes back down the hall, heading home. He thinks about calling Foggy to say that they talked and that their partnership is official, at least for now, but he's a little worried Foggy wouldn't answer, or that he would just say he already knows. One of the worst things about texting being inconvenient is that it forces things a little, for some people. He'll see Foggy at the next practice.

*

It's a bad day.

Matt wakes four times in the night to the sound of sirens, and gets up with the last of them at five to sit at the window and listen until Doris gets up. She just makes him coffee a little stronger than usual—Karen gets insomnia sometimes too, and Doris and Ben are used to it. His head already hurts from lack of sleep and the noise, so it only gets worse when a jackhammer starts in on road repair while they're eating breakfast, and every car on the walk to school seems to be running behind and annoyed, because the car horns make him wince so much and so often that Karen takes his arm without giving him warning.

By the time he gets to school, all the control he learned from Stick is eroded. Matt feels buried in conversations and smells and heartbeats, and Karen walks him all the way to his locker and then stops and fusses with the collar of his jacket. “Are you okay? You seem pretty worn out, do you want me to call Doris and see if she'll call you out sick?”

Matt shakes his head. “I have a quiz last period, I can't miss. I've just got a headache, I might stop by the health center if I can't shake it later, but I can't go home.”

“If you're sure.” She gives him a quick hug. “I'll make sure Claire and—I'll make sure Claire knows to look out for you, okay?” He nods. “And we'll go right home after school. Do you want to skip lunch and sit in the library? We can eat when we get home.”

When it's this bad, he'll be able to hear the cafeteria almost as well from the library as he can when he's in it. “I'll meet you for lunch—you shouldn't skip, even if we eat later. If it's bad, I promise I'll go to the nurse.”

Karen sighs. “You're a really bad liar,” she says, but she doesn't argue beyond that. “I'll see you at lunch, and if you look this bad then, I am going to drag you to the nurse myself.”

Matt grips her elbow for a second. “Thank you, Karen, but I'm really fine.”

“Sure. Bye, Matt.”

The morning is excruciating, everyone seeming twice as loud as usual, a girl with a strong new perfume in the hall and a teacher whose clothes smell like detergent so much Matt thinks he spends five minutes with his nose wrinkled. Matt only makes it to third period before he raises his hand and asks to go to the restroom in the middle of a lecture he's actually interested in because they're two classrooms down from a freshman English class that's being run by a substitute and is so loud he wants to scream.

Bathrooms are terrible for smells, but it's the sounds that are worst today, and tile and linoleum block some of those, make them easier to bear. Every sound in a bathroom usually gets reflected back, but Matt is alone when he comes in, so it doesn't matter much. He splashes water on his face and leans against the far wall to take deep breaths and try to get himself under control.

He doesn't hear Foggy coming until the door opens, and he hasn't had time to figure out what to do by the time Foggy yelps, noticing him. “Jesus, Matt, are you just lurking in here waiting to terrify people?”

“No. Sorry. I just needed a minute.” He feels his way over to the sinks and turns one on to start washing his hands, for verisimilitude. “Don't let me interrupt.”

“Right. I won't.” Foggy goes into one of the stalls, and Matt keeps the water going, because he really doesn't want to hear anything, but he doesn't want to go back to class either. He only realizes the lingering is creepy when Foggy comes out of his stall and sighs before he comes over to the sink. “Are you waiting for me or something?”

“No.” Matt turns off his sink and steps back toward the wall again, shaking his hands as he goes. He hates drying his hands on the rough paper towels. “I just don't want to go back to class yet, that's all.” The teacher will wonder where he went, but few teachers are willing to get the blind kid in trouble for anything, even if it's skipping class.

“Okay.” Foggy's sink shuts off, and he brushes by Matt to get his paper towel, but Matt doesn't hear him wiping his hands. “So, are you … okay? You look kind of shitty, not gonna lie.”

“Headache.” Like the universe wants to prove its point, the intercom crackles to life, a tinny voice calling an unfamiliar name down to the office, and Matt winces at the sound. “Bad one.”

“So you're lurking in the bathroom? We've got a nurse for that.”

“I don't like going to the nurse. It's fine. Things are a little quieter in here.”

Foggy finally dries his hands and crumples the paper up to throw it away. Matt flinches at the noise, and Foggy pauses with it still in his hands. “That bothered you? You _must_ have a headache.”

“I have sensitive hearing.” It's an understatement, but it's the kind of understatement people believe and the kind that helps. It's what he told the Urichs and Karen and Claire, when he was getting to know them all, and it's what he tells his therapist when she asks about reasons for his insomnia. “Some days things seem louder than others.”

“That sucks. High school has to be a shitty place to have sensitive ears.”

“Try the smells too,” says Matt, before he can stop himself. He doesn't like people knowing about what he can do, the way he puts the world together—it might make them pity him less, but Stick used it so easily, and other people would too. The people he trusts, they might not, but even then Matt likes having his secrets. They're easier to use that way.

“A bathroom would not be the place I would hang out if I had a sensitive nose.”

Matt shrugs. “It's a trade-off. The sound is better in here, and everything is cool and smooth even if I don't want to touch it much because of the way it smells.”

“Okay. Makes sense, I guess.” Foggy sounds dubious, but he also doesn't sound unhappy. “Want some company? There's only ten minutes left in the period, I'm not really going to learn anything and you definitely aren't.”

“Yes.” Matt winces. “If you don't mind, anyway.” Foggy doesn't owe him this, and it's going to be invasive, because the most helpful thing will be to listen to Foggy's heartbeat and breathe his scent in to block out the rest of the school.

Foggy shifts a little, but he doesn't leave. “I'll stick around. Like I said, not learning anything right now.”

Matt relaxes. It's a little easier, with someone to focus on, and he leans back against the wall even if he'll need to scrub himself in the shower later and takes a few deep breaths. Someone at the other end of the hallway is yelling at someone on the phone, and in one of the classrooms someone is asleep and her friends are giggling about it. The vents are carrying in the smell of the cafeteria lunch, meatloaf and corn and something with onions. Foggy, closer, smells a little like sweat but mostly like deodorant and detergent and a note of someone's perfume, maybe his mother's. His heartbeat is steady, if a little fast. “Thank you.”

There's no answer to that, and they're lucky, because no one comes in to ask what the hell they're doing and they don't get paged for skipping class, so Matt has time to breathe, and to get himself under control. His head still hurts, only meditation or sleep will help that, but he feels like he can get through the rest of the day now. Karen will be pleased.

“You're kind of a mess,” says Foggy, a few minutes before the bell rings, shifting until his arm is almost brushing against Matt's sleeve. “You know that?”

Matt tips his head back against the wall. “Believe me, I do.”

“Okay. Just as long as we're both aware. Now, let's get you to lunch before the halls get crowded again, since you finally look like you're not going to jump out of your skin if anyone says boo.” Matt startles and stands up straight, and Foggy's hair brushes his shoulders when he shakes his head. “I told Marci I'd sit with her and some friends at lunch today, I'm just delivering you to Karen.”

“Okay.” Matt takes one more deep breath. “Thank you. Let's go.”

Foggy walks him all the way to the lunchroom, where Karen is already waiting, since she has study hall right before lunch. She makes a surprised noise when she sees them together. “Foggy, I didn't know you were—”

“I'm not,” he says, a little too cheerful. “I think this belongs to you, though.” There's movement in the air like he's waving in Matt's direction. “I've got to run to my locker. Have a good day, Karen. Bye, Matt.”

With that, Foggy is gone, right as the bell rings and makes Matt flinch, since he's not quite back to normal yet. Karen takes his arm. “You look a little better, anyway. What was that all about?”

Matt lets her lead him toward their table. “I don't know. But yes. I feel a little better.”

*

“You're an asshole.”

Marci Stahl. Matt takes his hands off the book he's been reading through for class. Karen had a meeting with a teacher before school, and he's in the library, but he wasn't expecting anyone to come up to him, much less one of Foggy's friends. “I've heard that.”

She pulls out the chair across from him and sits in it, and then from the sound of things crosses her legs and laces her fingers together on the table. “I don't care if you're an asshole. Actually kind of makes me like you. But I care a lot if you're an asshole to Foggy.”

“He's speaking to me. Presumably there's some level of forgiveness.” He really hopes so. “Why get involved now?”

“Because he's a lot nicer than he should be. And he probably shouldn't forgive you. So I figured I'd come here and threaten you a little, beat Brett to it while I'm at it, since I like winning.”

Matt folds his hands too. “Did he tell you what happened?”

“Not specifically, but I'm really good at reading between the lines, and when one day he's all aflutter over the romantic note you sent him and then a while later he tells me it was a pity date, I can draw some conclusions. Believe me, you're not the only one I'm mad at.”

If he told her he suspects Vanessa and Wesley, she would probably have answers out of them by the end of the day. Matt doesn't know Marci well, but he knows enough to believe that. He doesn't want to tell her, though, because conclusions drawn or not he doesn't have the right to say anything she doesn't want him to. “It wasn't a pity date.”

“Mm. Liar.”

Matt straightens. “It wasn't.”

“Try again.”

He clenches his teeth. “It didn't end up that way. Okay?” Marci doesn't say anything. “He ended it, I respect that, it's the end of it. I'm glad he's still being nice to me and that he still wants to debate together, but I don't have any expectations.”

“Both an asshole and noble. At least you're interesting.” Marci uncrosses her legs. “Great, so you don't have expectations. Apparently you also freaked out in a bathroom and he spent most of lunch worrying about you.” She leans forward. “Listen to me.”

“I've been listening.”

“Great. I'm not going to make Foggy's decisions for him, and I'm not going to be a strict movie dad and say if you hurt him again I'll kill you, because that's just tacky. I'm just going to say that I like Foggy a lot, and if you aren't careful with him this time I am _really good_ at talking people into or out of things. Don't fuck up.”

Matt could be petty and say that he and Foggy are both on speech and debate, that Matt is just as good at swaying people to his side and Foggy knows when he's being swayed, but he knows what she means. He appreciates it, even. He thinks Karen would do it for him, in her own way. “I'm trying not to assume that I have a chance to screw up in the first place.”

Marci laughs. “You know, I think if you hadn't dicked around a friend of mine I'd actually like you.”

“Thanks, I think.”

“Definitely be honored. I don't like a lot of people.” Her hair swishes, a strong smell of coconut shampoo. “Anyway, keep it in mind. I'm still going to tell him it's a bad idea, but I figure it's worth working both ends of things.”

Matt nods and puts his hands back on the book. “I'm not going to push, but if he decides to forgive me I'm not going to say no either.”

“Fair enough.” She pushes the chair out and stands up again. “Do anything else and I'll let Brett talk to you next time, maybe he'll punch you. He's known Foggy forever and they're dicks about it sometimes but I bet he'd punch someone.”

“Thanks,” says Matt, as dry as he can, but she's already walking away.

*

“Do you have any idea why anyone would have given you that note in the first place?” Matt asks abruptly. They're in the library during study hall again, he and Foggy, putting arguments together for a practice Public Forum debate, and he didn't even know he was thinking about it until it came out of his mouth.

Foggy fumbles the book he's looking at and loses his place, judging from his muttered curse. “What a question, Jesus.”

“You must have thought about it.”

A pause. Foggy's heartbeat speeds up and he starts moving a little, restless, just thinking about it. Matt feels a little bad, but now that he's asked, he's not going to take it back. “I don't know. Like, it's the kind of thing asshole bullies do, but it's the kind of thing asshole bullies do in the movies, right?” He sighs. “I have thought about it. It's not like I think I have a lot of enemies.”

“But?”

“Probably someone I beat in a debate, sometimes I get kind of focused on winning and keep dismantling people's arguments even after everyone knows I've won.” Matt has noticed that, but he has to admit that he likes it. He even noticed it debating against Foggy before he ever noticed him properly, and respected it even if he was annoyed to lose. “I beat Wesley in a classroom discussion pretty recently, and Vanessa too. They're both kind of sneaky. And they're both friends with Fisk, who's kind of an asshole and might encourage their bad behavior. If I had to venture a guess ...”

Matt's guess too. It's not completely certain, but if the two of them are having the same thoughts for different reasons, chances are getting higher. “Vanessa and Wesley,” he says, and reaches across the table to tap Foggy's book. “The same ones we're practice debating in a few weeks?”

If he was expecting that to make Foggy nervous, he was underestimating him. Instead, Matt can hear the grin in his voice when he answers. “The very same, actually. Want to kick their asses?”

Matt grins back. “There's nothing wrong with a little bit of revenge.”

*

“You and Foggy are talking again.”

Matt, sprawled on his back on Claire's bed, grimaces. “I'm aware. Do you think we shouldn't?”

“I don't think it's a good idea, no. Either you're torturing him or you're torturing yourself. Unless you two are going to get back together.”

Matt shakes his head. “I would never ask him for that. And I don't think I'm torturing him. He was the one who still wanted to debate together, and he's been friendly. We still aren't eating lunch together, or spending study halls together, at least as much. I hope we're friends.”

“That answers the torturing him part of things.” Claire sighs. “Probably the torturing yourself thing too. You can tell him debating with him is a bad idea, Matt. He'll understand.”

“It would be selfish.”

“Bullshit.” Matt frowns, and Claire's desk chair squeaks, swiveling to face him. “You've got feelings for him, and even if you were a dick about things, that doesn't make them not real. If you don't want to spend time with him and make it worse, that's up to you. If wasn't selfish of him to break it off with you even though you actually want to date him now, and it's not selfish of you to back off if you need to.”

“I don't _want_ to.”

“If you're sure.” She taps the pencil she's been doing her homework with a few times on her leg. “I'm not going to tell you not to do it, Matt, but I don't want you to end up with your heart broken.”

“I'm fine.”

“I know. You always are.” Claire laughs a little, quiet. “I should have known. You always fall hard for inconvenient people. I should be grateful it's not Elektra, I guess.”

Matt puts his hand over his face. He can't see her, but he doesn't want her seeing him either, right now. “It's not because they're inconvenient. I liked Foggy even when he was convenient. I liked Elektra because she didn't baby me. I liked _you_.”

“And I decided I wanted to be your friend.” Claire is gentle, even though they don't talk about it ever, and he knows she wants to pretend none of it ever happened. They're better as friends, but it doesn't erase the rough beginning. “But that doesn't really matter. Foggy was never convenient—well, he was convenient before you noticed he was around.” Matt winces, but it's a fair point. He doesn't object. “But as soon as you found out about that note and said yes anyway, he stopped being convenient.”

“You really think I shouldn't—anything, with him. Not that I would. I know he doesn't want to. I've said that.”

Claire sighs. “I'm not trying to make your decisions for you. I just know that you're on a collision course with heartbreak, here, and I think that part of you likes that.” Matt opens his mouth, but she's already continuing. “We don't have to argue about it. But you and Foggy talking again, debating with each other … be careful, if you're going to insist on doing it.”

“We're debating against Vanessa and Wesley.” She makes an encouraging noise. She knows his non sequiturs by now. “They're the ones who sent the note. I'm almost sure.”

“Okay.” There's a lot behind that, in her heartbeat and the way he knows to read the tone of her voice, but she leaves it. He's grateful. “You planning to beat them?”

“Of course.”

“You have any plans beyond that?”

“No.” He takes his arm off his face. “Not yet.”

“Right.” She gets out of her chair and comes to sit on the bed next to him, rests her hand on his chest like she does when she wants to make sure he's okay. Usually it's on days like he was having when Foggy found him in the bathroom. He doesn't know what that says about anything, but it can't be anything good. “If he breaks your heart right back, that's not tit for tat, you know? I will be fully qualified to kick his ass.”

Matt breathes out. “Thanks, Claire. I don't think it will be necessary, and I don't want him hurt anyway, but thank you for saying it.”

“Yeah, you're welcome.” She taps his chest. “Don't break your own heart either, okay? And sit up. I need to drill you on math rules.”

*

“I hear you're taking on Public Forum.”

Matt stops walking. He's heading for the front of school, to meet Karen after the school paper meeting, and he wasn't expecting Fisk to talk to him. They've avoided speaking to each other as much as possible after Fisk graduated, and after a pre-meet practice Lincoln-Douglas where they ripped each other to shreds and Owlsley benched Matt even though both of them were out of line. “Hello. Are you here to pick up Vanessa?”

“Yes. Going somewhere?”

“Just to meet Karen.” He shifts his backpack on his shoulder. “And yes. I'm taking on Public Forum, if that's the right way to phrase it. Foggy and I want to see how we work as a team.”

“Not as much prestige in that.”

“Practice for a few things I'm interested in, though.” The conversation is already getting Matt's hackles up. Fisk may be assisting with the coaching, but he doesn't have a stake in this, not really. “Any reason you ask?”

“Just making conversation.” There's always an air of menace, with Fisk. He was never a bully, precisely, when he was at school. He just took the lunch table he wanted, walked the halls like a king, never got in trouble with the administration and got people he didn't like in trouble, and nobody ever said anything about it, because no one ever figured out that he didn't have to stick kids in lockers. He got everything he wanted without it. “Foggy Nelson, though?”

Matt smiles as pleasantly as he can and keeps his cane clutched tight in one hand. “He's got plenty of killer instinct. I think it will stand us in good stead.”

“Weren't you two dating for a little while?”

“You seem to care a lot about the social lives of high schoolers. Don't you have forensics at whatever school you're at?”

“I'm mentoring.”

He's poking at Matt's bruises because they've never liked each other, and both of them know it. If Vanessa and Wesley were the ones behind the note, Fisk must know. He must have laughed, and encouraged it—maybe they wanted to humiliate Foggy, but Fisk is smart even if he plays stupid sometimes. He would have known there would be some way of hurting Matt in there too. Some chance of it. “Or you couldn't hack it on their team, no matter how many competitions you won in high school. I guess pure brutality doesn't work well at that level.”

“And you would know.”

Matt would. He takes a step forward, into Fisk's space, just because it will make him uncomfortable but sighted people never tell Matt to step back because they don't know he's getting so close on purpose, more often than not. “I guess we'll see at the practice debate.”

“I guess we will. Have a good day, Murdock.”

“You too,” Matt says, and steps out of his way, just in time to put his cane just shy of tripping him before he can walk on. “I hope you can make it to the debate, by the way. To see Foggy and me win.”

Fisk just grunts, and Matt moves his cane to let him walk away.

That might have been stupid, but it felt satisfying, and Matt and Foggy have been practicing. It's an event they have interest in doing, and even if Vanessa and Wesley make a good team, it isn't their preferred event. They can show all of them exactly how little impact that note, whatever its purpose was, had on them.

*

“Doris says you're still welcome to come to dinner some time,” Matt blurts when he and Foggy are packing up their books. Foggy has kept coming back to his library table, even though they don't work a lot on debate, mostly homework. They don't eat lunch together, and they don't spend time together after school unless it's a debate day, so Matt treasures the study halls, even if there isn't a lot of conversation during them.

“Um, are you … sure that's a good idea?”

“As a friend. Since it seems like we're still hanging out sometimes, she says.” Matt can feel the warmth in his cheeks. He must be blushing, and he hates not being able to control it. “I'm not trying to put pressure on, or anything, she just always seems to know whether I pass messages like that on or not.”

“That's because you're a shitty—well. I guess not.” Matt winces. He is shitty at the little lies, the ones about homework and passing messages. He's good at the big ones. Foggy has reason to know. “Plus it's mom radar, must happen even when it's not a blood mother.”

“Right.”

Foggy fidgets and then shuts his book with a gentle thump. “I don't know, Matt. I don't really want to blur any lines here.”

“Of course.” Matt swallows. “I'm not going to get my hopes up. I have Claire over for dinner all the time, and Karen has friends sometimes. It isn't like only boyfriends or girlfriends get invited over.”

“Right, yeah. It's just, you know. We used to date. So there's weird baggage, I guess.”

“Like I said. There isn't any pressure.” Matt runs his fingers over an equation or two on the printouts he's been using to help him study for math, which never works as well on the screenreader. “But I would like to be friends.”

“Of course you would.” Foggy sighs, and runs his fingers through his hair. His heartrate is a little elevated, but not enough to tell Matt anything but that he's anxious. “I kind of would too, but I'm trying to figure out _how_. Like, we're working with a lot less false pretenses now, which is good, but there are a lot of messy feelings going around, and I don't want to discount those.”

Matt nods and clasps his hands in his lap. Sometimes his fidgeting gives him away, when he wants to say more than he's saying, or when he's upset. “Slowly, I guess. Step by step.”

“Yeah, I get that part. I guess the question is just where I want to end up.”

“Of course.” Matt knows where he wants to end up, but even if Foggy comes to trust him again, there's no promise that he'll still be interested, or that he'll ever be able to trust him that much. “Let me know if you figure it out. I'm willing to try anything.” He squeezes his hands together. “Even if it's just being debate partners.”

“Just? We're going to be the most kickass debate partners out there.” It's a little too jovial, but it's an olive branch. Matt isn't going to discount those, even if it's not totally sincere yet. “Murdock and Nelson, unstoppable team, heading to Nationals!”

Matt laughs. “I guess that means we'll have to do a little more preparing.”

Foggy instantly relaxes, now that they're back on safe ground, and starts talking about his International Extemp prep and how it's helping him do research for potential Public Forum topics, and how Matt should help him. Matt joins in on the conversation even if he really needs to study for his math quiz, and he doesn't bring up dinner again.

*

“There's a meet next month,” says Owlsley while they're preparing for the debate. Everyone always watches each other's practice speeches—they aren't much good to the team if they can't even perform for a small group of people they know—but there seems to be buzz about this. Even Marci is here, skipping Student Council and completely ignoring Matt in order to talk to some freshman whose name he doesn't know, who's excited to watch the debate. Matt isn't ashamed to admit that he's smug that he and Foggy are the favorites to win. “You two plan to be ready for it?”

“Of course,” says Matt, and then winces and turns in Foggy's direction. Foggy is nervous, smell unpleasantly acrid, and he's been quiet ever since they turned up to practice. “Right?”

“Obviously,” says Foggy, like it really is obvious.

Owlsley scoffs a little, but that's just him, and Matt doesn't let it make him nervous. He tries out a smile instead. “Well then. We'll be ready. We're ready now, if Vanessa and Wes—James are.”

“We're ready,” Vanessa calls from across the room. She and Wesley have been talking quietly with Fisk, who's been advising them on strategy. Matt would say it isn't fair, but he's very sure he and Foggy can win either way, and his and Foggy's methods are much more similar to Fisk's than Vanessa or Wesley's. His advice wouldn't do much good.

“We're going to cream them, right?” Foggy asks under his breath. “It's going to be pretty embarrassing if we don't cream them.”

Matt pretends to search for Foggy with his hand, even though he knows exactly where he is, and squeezes his arm, just for a second before he pulls away. He doesn't want to push his luck. “Obviously,” he says, just as quietly.

Owlsley clears his throat and starts explaining the rules to everyone, how it's going to be judged (and Matt knows the judges aren't impartial, here, especially with Fisk among them, but he thinks they can win regardless). Foggy calms down once that ritual starts, and stops rustling his papers around in the table in front of him. Vanessa and Wesley are ignoring Owlsley, whispering with each other.

“Ready to begin?” Fisk asks when Owlsley finishes with the rules.

“Ready,” says Wesley.

“Ready,” says Foggy, and he isn't nervous anymore, settling into the calm that Matt recognizes from listening to him debate in the past. Matt focuses on that calm and takes a deep breath, thinks through all their arguments again and lets Foggy do their opening.

They win—of course they win. Matt didn't entertain any thought that they wouldn't, against Vanessa and Wesley, especially given they have something to prove. They might win a little _too_ much, really. Neither of them is inclined to be kind to Vanessa and Wesley in particular, and in general, they work well as a team, and apparently it's even better when there's an audience, not just the two of them hashing their way through arguments.

Owlsley is the one to call the winners, even though everyone had to know five minutes in that Matt and Foggy would win. “Yeah, yeah,” he says, while there's scattered applause from the rest of the team. “No need to show off, nobody likes a sore winner.”

There aren't any words about sore losers, even though Vanessa and Wesley and Fisk are all tense and silent—Fisk should make some effort at being impartial, but he never does, especially not where Matt is concerned. “Hey, you should be glad,” says Foggy, sounding exactly as smug as Matt feels. “We're the ones actually planning to do the event in competition. Nice job, you two.”

“Thank you,” says Vanessa, who is better at being gracious than the other two.

That makes Fisk pull himself together, and he waves them back to their seats (Foggy taps Matt on the arm, since he doesn't know Matt can tell when people are making that kind of gesture) before he starts talking about what both teams could have done better and how it generally works in competition.

Matt doesn't pay much attention, and he suspects Foggy isn't either. They're sitting together, only a few places away from Vanessa and Wesley, and most of the room across from Marci, and Foggy seems to be vibrating with energy, not sitting relaxed in his chair like he usually is. Matt is too satisfied to be really keyed up, and he mostly lets himself drift until Owlsley starts talking to some of the speech kids about individual events and everyone else breaks off into practicing.

“We rocked,” Foggy whispers. “You should see Wesley, he looks like he bit down on a lemon.”

It's hard to control his grin. “We did. And I wish I could see, though I can imagine.”

“I would fistbump you, but I feel that would take some choreography.”

He would be able to tell where Foggy's fist was, but Matt just puts his up instead, keeps it in one place. “Here, I won't move, do it.”

Foggy does, tapping their fists gently together and then making a quiet explosion noise. “There. I feel like we've actually celebrated and shit now, and I'm going to go gloat in Marci's direction. You good over here?”

Matt wants to tell Foggy to stay, come up with some excuse like talking to the underclassmen or getting ahead talking about their first competition debate, but he and Foggy are good, today. They'll hopefully keep being friends. He's not going to push. “I'm great. Tell Marci hello.”

“I didn't think you—no, you know what, not asking. Sometimes it is best not to ask.”

Foggy is humming, pleased, when he gets up and walks away, and Matt lets the conversation in the room wash over him for a while. He isn't really necessary for anything else this afternoon, but Vanessa and Wesley are quietly dissecting their defeat and Foggy is talking to Marci about winning but not about Matt, so he stays. Karen is after school for the paper, anyway, and she'll be around for another hour at least.

Debate breaks up for the afternoon before she gets out, and Foggy is still talking to Marci, so Matt goes out into the hall to wait for her, getting a few congratulations on the debate on his way out the door, and sits down leaned against the lockers halfway down the hall from where she's meeting. The school is emptying out person by person as afternoon practices and clubs get out, and Matt keeps one ear on Karen bossing around the senior who edits the paper and one ear on the rest of the school.

On Foggy, almost as far away in the building as he could be, saying “—that we're even, I'm really curious about why the note. I beat a lot of people in debates. Most of them don't try to mess with me.”

“We thought it would be funny.” Vanessa. Matt struggles to his feet. “Why else do you think?”

“I guess I thought maybe people weren't that much of assholes.” Matt starts walking in Foggy's direction. It's after practice, and if Vanessa is around, and probably Wesley too, it's because they're with— “And I always kind of wondered if you knew too, actually.”

“I didn't see the harm in a few teenage pranks.” Fisk. Matt doesn't know why Foggy is confronting them, and he doesn't know why he would do it with Fisk there, but he needs to get there before anything goes wrong. He drops his backpack and starts running.

“Yeah. Bullies never do.”

“I wouldn't call me names if I were you.” Calm, Fisk is always so calm until he isn't, Matt heard him lose his temper once last year and he's kept an ear on him ever since because he knows that kind of temper, he _has_ that kind of temper.

“It took him long enough to figure out Murdock was humoring him, after all.” Wesley. It's all three of them, of course, and Foggy's heartbeat spikes at that—still hurt, of course he is, and they're making it worse, pressing at bruises.

“Funnily enough, my not thinking the worst of people has nothing to do with you being bullies.” Matt is only a hallway away from them now, and he'll have to slow down, use his cane. Not that he knows exactly what he can do or say anyway. “Okay, though. Question answered. You just felt like being assholes and I was a convenient target because I beat you a lot.”

“I'd watch your language,” says Fisk, and Matt slows to a purposeful walk, gets his cane ready. “If you call coaches names, you can get suspended from the team. Even bullying other team members can lead to a suspension, if not more.”

Foggy scoffs, but Matt can hear his heartbeat speed up. That scares him. Foggy loves debate, said once it's his way of practicing for law school, and that if Owlsley were less of an asshole he would be his ticket to amazing recommendations for college. He must know as well as Matt does that administration will take Fisk's word over theirs, if Fisk says they were picking on Vanessa and Wesley instead of the opposite. “Really? You're playing that card?”

“What card? I think I hear disrespect, you and Murdock have always been borderline on that front. No one would be—”

“You leave Matt out of this.” Foggy snaps it out, and that's not good, Matt can hear Fisk's heart tick up a notch now that he's provoked Foggy, now that there isn't the pretense of friendliness. Vanessa and Wesley are quiet now, but Fisk has the power here. They don't need to step forward. Fisk doesn't even need to. He can just kick Foggy off the team. “I'm the one they were fucking with in the first place. He doesn't need to be involved.”

Matt should pause before he comes around the corner, figure out what to say, how to defuse this, how to get away, but he doesn't. It's coming to a head, and he barely remembers to put the end of his cane on the floor before he comes around the corner where they'll be able to see him. “It sounds like I'm involved, though.” Foggy makes a quiet noise, nothing Matt knows how to interpret. Fisk's heartbeat is steady, but he takes a step forward. Vanessa and Wesley are quiet and still—they're good at that—but Matt isn't going to discount them. “Foggy. Are you okay?”

“Fine, man. Just talking a little about the debate, respect for authority figures, that kind of thing.”

“It's very important to respect authority figures who are worthy of respect,” Matt agrees, taking a few steps closer to Foggy. He can't go right to his side, not without raising some questions, but he can get closer. “Is this about the note?”

“ _Matt_ ,” Foggy hisses, but Matt is waiting to see which one of them answers.

Vanessa is the one to field the question, in that deceptively mild tone of hers. “Maybe it's good that you're here, Matthew. I have to admit I'm curious why you went along with it. Maybe you felt sorry for him? It was rather pitiful.”

Matt doesn't even realize he's moving until Foggy throws his arm across Matt's chest and stops him short. The few steps he took must have been too sure, and his fists are clenched, and Matt forces himself to take deep breaths. Foggy doesn't move his arm, like he thinks he's the only thing keeping Matt from lunging. He might be. “That's enough,” says Foggy, to all of them. “You three, his sister is on the school paper, she listens to him, and also he kind of looks like he wants to kill you, so I'd quit it if I were you. Matt, you come with me.”

Matt shakes his head. “You don't—”

“Yes I do.” That's Foggy as sharp as he ever gets, when he's leaning in to make the argument that will win him a debate. “You are all really lucky I decided I didn't want him to get suspended for assaulting a student or a coach. Matt, come _on_.”

Foggy starts walking, putting his fingertips on Matt's arm, not quite leading him, just letting him know what direction he's going in. “Running away?” Wesley asks their backs, when Matt starts following Foggy because he can't do anything else.

Matt is ready to turn around, but Foggy stops first, and breathes in. “If I were you, I might reconsider my definition of pitiful,” he says on his exhale. “I'm not the one who was such a sore loser I decided to pull an asshole prank on someone.” When he starts walking again, he grips Matt's arm a little tighter, and Matt goes with him, listens to him breath until they've turned a corner and he lowers his voice and starts talking again. “Where the hell did you come from? Where's your backpack?”

“I left it near Karen's classroom.” Matt winces, because Foggy will know where that is. He already knows Matt's hearing is more sensitive than most people's. “I heard you start arguing—why would you provoke them?”

“Honestly, I was trying to call a truce so this doesn't become a feedback loop of us kicking their asses and them plotting revenge, but that was probably stupid, and what do you _mean_ you heard us start arguing from outside the school paper? Let's go get your bag.”

Matt pulls gently away from Foggy's hand, because Foggy might not want to hold on much longer. “My hearing is sensitive. You know that.”

“Okay, there's sensitive and there's 'possibly a character in a kung fu movie,' and you are treading that line pretty hard all of a sudden.”

“Please, can we not talk about this right here?”

Foggy sighs, and he's a few steps ahead of Matt, his adrenaline high and his gait quick with it. Matt is lagging. “Fine. But can we talk? About things? This seems to be my afternoon for overdue but unwise conversations. Is Karen expecting you or something?”

“If you text her that we're together, she won't worry, and she'll pass my excuses to Ben and Doris if the conversation goes on for a while. I would do it myself, but sometimes speech-to-text takes a while.” Matt speeds up, because Foggy isn't slowing down. He doesn't seem angry, but he doesn't seem happy either. “We can talk.” He swallows. “Are you angry?”

“Stop looking like a kicked puppy. No. Mostly I'm pissed off at Wesley and Vanessa and Fisk, and a little bit I'm freaked out that you heard that all the way across the school.”

Matt will take that. He speeds up a little catch up with Foggy and doesn't bother using his cane much as they walk to the hallway where he left his bag. Foggy has his phone out, probably texting Karen, or maybe Marci. “Do you want to talk anywhere in particular?”

“Sure, I know somewhere. There. Karen knows you haven't been kidnapped and murdered, and also that we won our practice debate, which she is already threatening to put in the paper.”

“Tell her to save it for when we win in competition,” says Matt, and tries not to sigh in relief when Foggy laughs.

*

Foggy's place to talk, it turns out, is a dingy bar Matt is fairly sure they shouldn't be allowed in, where they get served sodas almost immediately by a low-voiced woman who smells like cigarettes and scotch and who Foggy tells Matt he's going to marry someday. “Nobody cares what people talk about in here,” says Foggy. “So I thought it might be a good place to … you know. Discuss you hearing conversations across schools. And also you stepping in to defend me earlier. And other stuff, I don't know. I've been thinking maybe we should talk.”

“Right.” Matt takes a deep breath. “Where do you want to start, then? Ask me questions.” Foggy knows how to do that, and it's easier than trying to confess everything in some kind of incomprehensible heap.

After a few seconds and a sip of soda, Foggy does. It starts with asking about how far he can hear conversations, and it ranges over Matt's hearing, his smell, his late nights in the gym where his father used to box and how he's getting better at it, how he likes it better than the martial arts he learned—well, the martial arts he learned. There are some things Matt isn't going to volunteer, and that Foggy doesn't ask. Stick isn't a story for today.

“So you have superpowers,” Foggy summarizes when Matt runs dry on new things to tell him. He wasn't pleased about all of it (he doesn't like Matt hearing his heart, but Matt really can't help that, not when they're sitting so close), but he's still listening. He isn't cutting off contact again. “Tell me you don't go out at night and save damsels.”

Matt shakes his head. “I don't.” That's honesty, even if it's not the whole story, and when Foggy just hums thoughtfully, he forces the rest of it out. “Sometimes I want to. I don't—I would have punched Fisk, if you hadn't stopped me. I would have done more than punch him, probably. Maybe Wesley. Maybe even Vanessa.”

“That's—chivalrous, I guess. For the record, please don't. I don't want you getting arrested for me. Or, you know, anyone.”

Sometimes, Matt will hear someone crying in the bathroom, or Karen talking quietly to Ben about how she ended up in the system, or a siren will pass his window at night, and he'll itch, wanting to do _something_ about it, knowing that if he practices he'll be _able_ to do something about it. “I won't get arrested,” he says, which is the closest he can get to telling the truth.

Foggy sighs like he knows it. “That's really not comforting, but we'll leave it there for now, and I am going to ask you why you came rushing in to defend my honor earlier.”

It's Matt's turn to stall with a sip of his soda. It tastes like too much sugar, and carbonation is sometimes too much of a sensory distraction, but he could use the distraction today. “You know why,” he finally says, and Foggy makes a displeased noise. “You do. It's what I would have done if someone were hassling Karen or Claire too, if that makes you feel any better about it.”

“I just … stroke my ego here, Matt. As they so delicately pointed out, the whole you-pretending-to-like-me thing was kind of pitiful. Indulge me. I was doing okay. They were empty threats. Why go in there fists swinging?”

“Because empty or not, you shouldn't have had to hear that. You shouldn't have had to deal with them being spiteful, and threatening you.” He fidgets with his straw wrapper. “Because it's my fault they had that much ammunition on you.”

Foggy shakes his head, hair on his shoulders. “They would have found ammunition no matter what. If you turned me down that first day it would have been about how I never should have believed the note. I'm pissed off about the pity dating, but not because of them using it against me. I'm just pissed it happened.”

Matt ducks his head. “I'm still sorry about that.”

“I can't believe I'm … you said it got to be genuine.” Matt's heart jumps to his throat, and Foggy continues before he can try to speak past it. “I want you to be so sure that it isn't guilt, or whatever.”

“It's not.” Too fast, too loud. Matt sits back in his chair and tries to modulate his voice. “It isn't, Foggy. I promise. I really like you. A lot. What … what changed your mind? If you're changing you're mind.” He could just want information, but his heart is a little faster than usual but steady, and he's tapping his fingers against the table. He sounds like he's coming to a decision.

Foggy sighs, but it isn't exasperated, from what Matt can tell. He's still thinking. “It's kind of hard to keep telling myself you were making it all up when you're clearly pining.”

“I wasn't making it up.” Convincing Foggy because he's being obvious about missing him isn't ideal, but it might make Foggy feel like the playing field is a little more level.

“Yeah, I kind of—I mean, you were going to stupidly punch people to, I don't know, defend my honor or something. I get the message that this isn't a pity thing. And if it isn't a guilt thing ...” Matt shakes his head. “It seems kind of stupid if we both have feelings for each other and we're not together, even if you were a massive dick about things the first time around.”

“No false pretenses this time,” Matt promises, and dares to put his hand on the table, to see if Foggy's going to take it.

“Okay.” Foggy shifts in his seat and puts his hand next to Matt's, fingers barely brushing. “Okay.” And then he's half out of his side of the booth, scraping against the table in a way that has to hurt, and his glass rocks but doesn't tip as he leans over the table to kiss Matt, clumsier even than their first kiss. Matt doesn't care. He kisses back, doesn't worry about the angle or how their mouths are only half touching. Foggy is kissing him again. They can worry about finesse again later. There's going to be a later.

“No,” says the woman who delivered their sodas, loud and closer than she should have managed to get before Matt heard her. Foggy is distracting. “Nelson, you want to feel up your boyfriend, you pay for your soda and scat.”

Foggy laughs, and Matt is still close enough that he can _feel_ the heat from his cheeks. “Josie, light of my life, this is kind of a celebratory occasion. Promise we'll keep it PG?”

She snorts. “That's worse. Out, Nelson. Come back when you aren't acting like a cartoon character.”

It sounds like a well-worn interaction, if not quite an affectionate one, so Matt lets Foggy take the lead and pay for their sodas. He can always pay for their next date, and he likes hearing Foggy quietly argue with Josie at the counter, something about a discount and an extra tip. Foggy is busy the whole time, bouncing on the balls of his feet, heart fast and whole body warm. Matt is making him happy again, Matt and winning the debate, even if that was spoiled a little by the conversation in the hall.

“Okay,” says Foggy when he's done, grabbing Matt's hand and towing him out of the building. “That didn't act like quite as much of a refuge as I wanted, but I should probably get home anyway. I didn't tell Mom I would be missing dinner or bringing company. And you didn't tell Karen or the Urichs that either.”

“No, I didn't.” But Foggy can finally come to dinner now. Doris and Ben will be pleased. “But I'll see you tomorrow at school, anyway.”

Foggy squeezes his hand. “Probably smart to stick together, right? Present a united front for our nemeses.”

“Right.” Matt isn't sure of the wisdom of that at all, but a united front sounds good. He squeezes back. “Thank you for trying again.”

“Yeah, well. I guess my willpower isn't great when I'm confronted with hot guys with superpowers who are pining according to my friends.” They walk a few steps. “Fair warning, if you're an asshole this time Marci may actually ruin your life.”

“She talked about Brett punching me, too.”

“She—no, you know what, I'm not even going to ask right now, I'm going to enjoy this walk with my—boyfriend, I guess.”

“Boyfriend definitely.” They only have about a block before Matt will have to split off in a different direction, but that's fine. He can kiss Foggy goodbye again, and find him at his locker before school.

Foggy laughs. “Okay, all my fears are being alleviated, I wish you could see your face right now.”

“Good.”

The rest of the walk is good—Matt does kiss Foggy goodbye, until someone brushing by them on the sidewalk swears and mutters something about taking up space, and he lingers on the rest of his walk even though he's on his own, just to have a little privacy to revel in the conversation.

Karen and Doris and Ben are all home when he gets there, sitting around the dinner table, and all of them relax when he comes into view, Doris and Ben taking each other's hands under the table and Karen's grin showing coming through her voice when she says “It went okay, then?”

Matt must be blushing, because she's biting back laughter now, and Doris isn't bothering to contain her chuckle. “Yeah.”

“Well, then,” says Ben. “Dinner's still warm. Sit down and tell us all about it.”

*

“Foggy is having lunch with us,” Matt blurts all in one breath when he sits down at the table across from Claire the next day. Foggy is across the cafeteria talking to Marci and Karen is late, so he can snatch a moment of privacy with Claire.

There's a brief pause while she either straightens out his tangle of syllables or processes the news. “I take it the debate went well,” she finally says, dry.

“Yes, and then things went poorly in the hall after that, but everything is okay now.” Matt has felt like vibrating out of his skin all morning, and he hasn't been able to stop himself checking in on Foggy once or twice a period all day, even if Foggy isn't used to his senses and probably wouldn't completely approve. He can apologize later.

Claire laughs. “Yes, I can see that.”

Foggy is coming over now—Marci told him not to get his heart broken this time, and Matt takes his hand the second he sits down, because Foggy probably knows he heard that. It's hard getting used to him knowing, especially when he knows more than even Claire does at this point. “Hey, Claire,” says Foggy, sounding sheepish.

“Welcome back.” That's warmer, less teasing. Matt will be in for a conversation with her later, and probably a warning that if he fucks it up this time it's not her job to clean up after his mistakes, but she seems happy too, genuinely so. She likes Foggy, and she must see how happy Matt is. “I hear you two won your debate. Congratulations.”

“Thanks.” Foggy disentangles his hand from Matt's and starts sorting through his lunch bag. “Probably not fair on Vanessa and Wesley. It isn't their event, and also we are a hell of a lot better than they are.”

“Great, you're both gloaters, that's going to make the lunch table fun. You should bring a friend or two of yours over sometimes, Karen and I are going to need backup.”

“Oh God, I'm pretty sure I shouldn't introduce Marci or Brett to you.”

Karen chooses that moment to arrive, sitting down next to Claire, a little out of breath. “Sorry, guys, forgot my lunch in my locker and that one couple was making out against it—Foggy, hey! Nice to have you back at the table.” She sounds like she's grinning, again or still. She dragged Matt into her room after dinner last night and made him tell her the story, hissing in anger over Fisk and Vanessa and Wesley and clapping when he talked about sitting in the bar talking things over with Foggy. She still doesn't know about the beginning of things, but he might tell her sometime, with Foggy's permission.

“Nice to be back.” There's a long enough silence that Matt suspects they're making faces at each other, communicating things they don't want him to hear, and when Matt sighs, Foggy laughs. “Yeah, yeah, we're telling secrets, sorry. Any word from Vanessa or Wesley this morning?”

“Not a thing.” He doesn't think they're done with whatever their objective is, but nothing has happened this morning, and at least he and Foggy are presenting a united front now. They can deal with bullies later on. “I'd rather not talk about them, though.”

“You're going to have to talk about them eventually,” says Claire. “I would like an explanation. But I don't really want to waste my lunch break talking about them either. There's a new volunteer at the hospital—I think he's there doing community service, but he seems nice, anyway, so I'm not going to ask about it.”

Claire always knows what to say, so he can focus on getting to sit next to Foggy again and maybe hold his hand when they're finished eating. He smiles across the table at her and asks about the new volunteer, lets her talk about him and then about the doctor who always treats her like an incompetent, drawing Karen into the conversation and leaving Matt and Foggy to listen until Foggy has to excuse himself a few minutes before lunch is over because he needs to stop in the library to get something he ordered.

“I'll walk with you,” Matt offers.

Foggy shakes his head. “No, no, I'll see you after school, I've actually got to concentrate and I know that look on your face.” He does kiss Matt before he goes, quick and a little embarrassed, when they're in public, and Matt lingers as long as Foggy lets him.

“See you later, Foggy,” says Claire, Karen chiming in, and when he's gone, she reaches across the table to pat Matt's arm. “Good for you,” she says, the closest thing Claire is going to get to a blessing, and he smiles and offers to walk her to class, which is the closest thing she'll allow to thanks.

“I'll come along,” says Karen, an acknowledgment of all of it, and is the first to stand up to pick up her bag and wait for them.

*

The audiences are never big, at debate meets. Today, though, Matt has what seems like a crowd in the stands—Ben, Doris, and Karen all came, and they're sitting with the Nelsons, who Matt has met a few times now and who seem to have brought half the extended family, which he's coming to realize is normal for them. There are representatives from the debate team too, though Fisk and Vanessa and Wesley are conspicuous in their absence. Matt's a little sorry about that. He'd like them to see he and Foggy win again, even though everything has been quiet from them since the day of the practice debate.

“Nervous?” Foggy asks from next to him, shuffling a few papers around. He sounds a little nervous himself, and Matt is still getting used to the way his hair sounds after the haircut he got two days ago.

“I think we'll win. Fisk and Owlsley wouldn't coach us into losing just from spite. And even if they would we've done plenty of independent research.” There are too many people watching for displays of affection, but he catches Foggy's hand under the table. It's close enough to what he wants to do, anyway. “We're going to be fine.”

Their opponents are close, talking quietly about strategies—one has heard about Matt, and is whispering to her partner about “the blind kid, apparently he's really good at Lincoln-Douglas, keep an eye on him,” and he would be offended if he weren't feeling a little smug about Foggy taking them by surprise.

Foggy lowers his voice. “You've got that eavesdropping expression on your face. You aren't cheating and listening to our opponents, right?”

“Not listening to their arguments, anyway,” Matt offers. Foggy is good about his senses, most of the time, but Matt always feels chastened when he brings them up in that disapproving tone. “They're saying I'm good in solo events and to watch out for me—and now they're saying you don't look like very tough competition.” He frowns.

Foggy just nudges his shoulder. “Good thing we're about to prove them wrong. What do you say, want to annihilate them?”

The judge is just standing up, clearing her throat, ready to read the rules, and Matt can't help grinning. “I don't think we should have too much trouble with that.”

Foggy finds his hand under the table one more time and squeezes it tight. “Then let's do it.”


End file.
